


The Circle Breaker

by songofdefiance



Series: A Tale of Two Inquisitors [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Enemies to friends (to lovers), F/F, Gen, Inquisition rewrite, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-04-14 10:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 89,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofdefiance/pseuds/songofdefiance
Summary: Two people emerge from the Fade on the day of the conclave's demise.One is the Divine's former Right Hand, desperately hoping that she isn't responsible.  The other is an apostate mage, whose contempt for the Circle is more than it seems.Two people, one problem: theybothbear a mark on their hands.





	1. Nothing

The first thing that Cassandra became aware of was the splitting pain in her hand.  

It felt as though it was being bathed in flame - that, and that her knuckles were being crushed, her fingernails pulled out, her bones broken, all at the same time.  Cassandra bit down on her lip to stifle the instinctive cry of pain, blinking her eyes open and taking in her surroundings.

It was easy enough to recognize that she was in the cell of some Chantry - though which Chantry it was, she could not say.  She was chained, arms and legs, to the floor, and that fact alone was like ice in her gut. She began counting her breaths in a concerted effort to stay calm, and she lined up the facts in her head.

Fact: she was imprisoned in a Chantry.  Whether it was because it was an abandoned Chantry that had been appropriated by renegades, or because she was being held for legitimate reasons, was a mystery to her.  Her cell seemed to be isolated. Rather than being surrounded by other cells, she was surrounded by stone walls, and the door had no hints apart from a small grate set into it near the top.  

Fact: her hand hurt like nothing she had ever felt before - and it was glowing.

_ That  _ part had escaped her at first.  Now she stared as a green light pulsated through her skin and glove.  Each pulse, she realized, matched up with a pulse of pain through it. She was well and truly mystified by this development; she’d never seen anything like it, in all her years as a Seeker.  

Fact: she was dressed like... well, like a hooligan.  Gray trousers and a green shirt, the kind that was usually worn by outcasts and mercenaries.  What had happened to her armor? Who had changed her out of it? Those questions, she realized, meant that she was getting ahead of herself.  Cassandra took a deep breath, and returned to the facts.

Fact: she could not remember anything past her initial arrival at the conclave.  

That part was more frightening than anything else.  Cassandra remembered walking in the doors, greeting Divine Justinia, apologizing for not being able to bring Varric Tethras herself, but that he was at the Haven Chantry and would be following in a few days time.  Then she’d gone to find her sleeping quarters and... nothing. As though someone had ripped a hole in her head.

Listing out the facts, as it turned out, did nothing to stop questions from clamoring around in her head.  What had happened at the conclave? Why couldn’t she remember it? Why did she have this  _ thing  _ on her hand (in her hand, which was almost worse)?  Why was she chained up in the cells, like a common criminal?

No, not common - common criminals weren’t placed in isolation.  Whatever had happened, it was likely bad, and it was more than likely she was a suspect.

It was only then that the rest of what her body was feeling caught up with her.  The initial alarm and accompanying adrenaline had kept most of it at bay, but now exhaustion and a more familiar ache encompassed her.  Her muscles were fatigued, and her stomach rumbled, though she did not think she could keep any food down in her current state. Her head started to throb, though not on the same level as her hand.  She let her head loll, feeling almost too tired to even keep it upright. 

That, of course, was the moment that the door opened.  

Cassandra straightened herself as far as her chains would allow, raising her head high in order to meet the gaze of whoever had entered.  She nearly sagged in relief at the sight of Leliana, but the impassive expression on her friend’s face gave her pause. Leliana was often the type to hide her emotions, but she had rarely done so around Cassandra, and her presence here confirmed that Cassandra was being held by legitimate Chantry officials.  

She knew what this was going to be, then: an interrogation.  That didn’t mean that she had to be the only one being interrogated, if she was careful.

“Leliana,” she greeted.  “What has happened? Why am I chained up, and why does my hand feel like someone shoved it in a fireplace?”

Leliana didn’t answer for a long moment, and her expression didn’t change.  Cassandra almost fidgeted, both eager for and dreading the answer.

“You don’t remember?” Leliana finally said.

“No.”

Leliana snorted.  “Convenient. Of course you don’t.”

Cassandra leaned back a bit, appalled.  “What? You - you don’t believe me? Leliana, what is going on?  Tell me!”

“Justinia is dead.”

Cassandra could face down bears without so much as breaking a fingernail, yet those three words were enough to knock the wind out of her.  The air simply left her lungs, and for a long few seconds she could not speak, or even breathe. Her thoughts went to the Divine, and how optimistic and hopeful Justinia had seemed when the two of them last spoke to one another.  How it had seemed that, if Justinia was confident the conclave could bring an end to the Mage-Templar war, then perhaps things were finally beginning to change for the better. Only now - dead?

Cassandra swallowed.  “How?” she managed to croak out, voice hoarse.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Leliana answered, watching Cassandra with sharp eyes.

In spite of knowing that it was foolish, Cassandra wracked her brains, hoping that even the smallest inkling of what had occurred would slip back into her brain.  But where there should have been something,  _ anything _ , there was still only a mass of emptiness.  She shook her head wordlessly, mercilessly choking down the lump in her own throat.  If Justinia was dead, then there could only be one reason why she was chained in a Chantry dungeon.  

“I am a suspect, aren’t I?” she asked, hearing the hollowness in her heart echo through her voice.

“Yes,” Leliana said.  “The conclave was completely destroyed as well.  Everyone who was attending is dead. Except, well...”

“Except me?”

“Yes.”

“And I have a strange mark on my hand, and seemingly no memory of what occurred,” Cassandra said.  “I can hardly fault you for being suspicious. But I swear to you, Leliana - my amnesia is not a lie.  I do not remember what happened after I arrived at the Conclave, which was - how many days has it been?”

Leliana paused, folding her hands behind her back.  “We’re not sure when you would have arrived. But it has been three days since it officially begun.  You’ve been unconscious for nearly all of that time.”

If Leliana was willing to give her this much information, it meant that she had doubts about Cassandra’s guilt.  Cassandra wanted to latch onto that, but was held back by doubts of her own.

If she could not remember - if she had no idea what had happened that destroyed the conclave, or killed Justinia, then it may very well have been caused by her.  Whether on purpose or inadvertently, she could have been guilty. That thought alone made her gut twist, and for a moment Cassandra wanted to wretch, even knowing that there was likely no food in her stomach anyway.

Leliana looked as pained as she felt.  “I believe you when you say you don’t remember, Cassandra,” she said.  “You’re not the type to lie about something this important. But... please understand - I can probably let you out of the chains at least, but at this point you being locked up is for your own safety.”

Cassandra nodded, feeling numb.  “I assume that the people at Haven have already decided my guilt for me?  We are at Haven’s Chantry, yes?”

“I’m afraid, so, and yes.”  Leliana’s expression softened into one that Cassandra was more familiar with.  This was the face of Leliana-her-friend, not Leliana-the-left-hand-of-the-Divine.  “I’ll have some food brought down here for you. It won’t be the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten, but you ought to be able to stomach some broth and bread, at the very least.  If I’m going to be interrogating you in more detail about what you do remember, then I think we can afford to do it over a proper meal.”

Cassandra nodded again, then watched as Leliana left the cell.  Leliana wasn’t quite quick enough to mask the way her face crumpled as she turned away from her.  Of course, Leliana had probably been hoping that Cassandra could give her answers about what had happened to Justinia, and now even Cassandra - the only person to emerge from the conclave alive - had failed to provide those answers.

A guard - someone that Cassandra did not know - entered a moment later and removed her wrists and ankles from the chains.  She winced as she stood, taking a moment to stretch and take stock of what parts of her body were badly hurt, and what parts were merely bruised.  To her surprise, there was very little damage apart from a few scrapes. The part of her that hurt the most was her hand. She glared at the offending appendage, flinching when it crackled with green light.

No longer distracted by Leliana’s presence, the full weight of Cassandra’s situation began to bear down on her.  She sat down again, cross-legged, back straight, and began to go through breathing exercises. She was adept at shielding herself from her own emotions, and she had the sense that she was going to need to do so for much of the day.  

The agony in her hand was difficult to ignore, so Cassandra instead focused on it, using it to shut everything else out.  It was a temporary solution at best, and a dangerous one at worst; she could not afford to rely on pain forever. At some point, her emotions were going to catch up with her, and she would either need to let them or find some other outlet.

Leliana finally returned, pausing in the doorway as she took in Cassandra’s posture.  “Am I interrupting?”

“No.”

“Good.”  Leliana bore a tray in her arms, upon which was a bowl of broth and a hunk of bread.  “I know it likely hasn’t been too long, but eat carefully - we don’t yet know if the mark has affected your appetite.”

It was not the mark that was the problem, but Cassandra said nothing, instead grabbing the bowl and spooning broth into her mouth.  It was thin, which she had expected, but the small sips brought some relief to her stomach, and she felt somewhat more clear-headed once she had finished the bowl.  Leliana had been polite enough to wait until Cassandra finished, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to wait for her to finish the bread as well.

“Tell me everything you can remember in the three days leading up to where you memory loss begins,” Leliana ordered.  “Don’t leave out any details. Even the smallest thing, something that might seem insignificant, could mean something.”

“I am not unfamiliar with the art of piecing together mysteries and interrogation, Leliana,” Cassandra said dryly.  But she obliged, beginning with her morning arrival in Haven with Varric Tethras, followed by two days of preparation, and then her short hike to the conclave.  Greeting Divine Justinia, being shown to her rooms, and then...

“And nothing,” she said, unable to keep her frustration from her voice.  As though sensing her agitation, her mark flared up again, and she held back a grimace.  Leliana’s eyes flickered to it briefly before she looked back at Cassandra. 

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Cassandra confirmed.  “Even the next moment after I placed my things in my temporary quarters is a mystery to me.  For all I know, I could have jumped out the window. There is simply nothing there.”

“Describe everyone you saw after arriving at the conclave.  Again - “

“Leave out no details,” Cassandra finished.  She hadn’t seen many people - a few servants of the Divine, several Revered Mothers, someone who had looked like a representative of the mages, but who Cassandra suspected had died in the destruction.  She even described Justinia, giving her own evaluation of the Divine’s mood. She hadn’t seemed off at the time, and even now Cassandra could find nothing out of the ordinary.

Leliana was silent for a long moment after Cassandra had finished with her descriptions.  Then: “This is frustrating.”

Cassandra snorted.  “Perhaps it would give you comfort to know that this is frustrating for the both of us, Leliana.”

Leliana smiled sheepishly.  “Yes, I imagine it would be.  For what it’s worth, Cassandra, I don’t believe you to be guilty, even if we don’t know for sure.  I just... there were few people more devoted to Justinia than you, Cassandra, and that devotion has always been sincere on your part.”

That belief did little to stem Cassandra’s own uncertainty, but it was enough that she felt like she was able to breathe again.  The lump in her throat was back again, but she restrained herself from throwing her arms around Leliana. She did not, after all, know what effect touching someone else would have on the mark.

Which reminded her - “Do you have any explanation for this?” she asked, gesturing to her hand.  “It is - this pain is not - “

Leliana hesitated for a moment, but it was long enough to confirm that she did, indeed know something.  “That part is a bit more complicated,” she said.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes.  “Complicated how?”

Leliana paused again, then stood up, gesturing for Cassandra to get up as well.  “It will be easier if I show you. Just... brace yourself.”

Cassandra followed Leliana out of her cell, staring at her back in disbelief.  How could this mess possibly get any worse?

They went through the Chantry dungeon, passing more of the isolated cells.  Cassandra was surprised when Leliana stopped outside one of them, staring at the door with apprehension, as though there was a mountain lion on the other side of it.  She muttered something to herself that Cassandra couldn’t hear, before sighing and turning to face her.

“Remember when I said everyone who was at the conclave is dead?”

“Yes,” Cassandra answered cautiously.

“I lied.”

Cassandra lifted her eyebrows.  “You mean there is another?”

“Yes.”  Leliana paused.  “I hid your existence from one another for interrogation purposes; I was uncertain as to whether or not you were in league with one another.  But, seeing as how she is in a... similar situation to you, then she should probably be brought with us.”

“She?”

Leliana shook her head.  “Just... tread carefully.”

She produced a keyring from what appeared to be thin air, and quickly unlocked the cell door.  Cassandra did not follow her inside, in spite of her curiosity. There was the sound of chains clinking against the ground, and she knew that whoever this person was, their own bindings were being removed.  She wondered why this woman had not yet been given that freedom.

The woman who emerged from the cell had a stiff back, and her eyes darted around the dungeon until they landed on Cassandra.  Immediately they narrowed into slits, and Cassandra was barely able to make out that they were grey, almost silver. Her dark hair was about as short as Cassandra’s, but messier, bangs framing her face.  Identical tattoos stretched out beneath her eyes.

“Cassandra,” Leliana said, “This is Senior Enchanter Wynn Trevelyan, from the Ostwick Circle - or so she claims.  Enchanter Trevelyan, this is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. I suppose Trevelyan’s title is somewhat outdated, seeing as how she is now an apostate mage.”

“I don’t know whether you’ve heard, Interrogator,” Wynn said, “but the only alternative to becoming an apostate was death.”

Leliana sighed.  “I know what the situation for mages was, Trevelyan.”

Wynn sneered.  “You only think you know.”  She eyed Cassandra. “This almost seems like a joke.  You’re telling me that the other suspect in the murder of Divine Justinia is her Right Hand?  Well,” she added, “ _ former _ Right Hand, I suppose.”

Cassandra felt a flash of anger at that remark, but she reigned it in - after all, it wasn’t as though Wynn was wrong.  Instead, she inclined her head, taking in what information she could about the other woman. She was taller than most women, but the top of her head still only came up to Cassandra’s eyeline.  She wore the same clothes as Cassandra, and - 

And her left hand burned green.

At the same moment, both their left hands crackled with energy.  The pain shot up Cassandra’s arm, but she held herself still. Wynn, on the other hand, grimaced and doubled over, having not received the same training at Cassandra.  

“Well,” she panted, after regaining her composure.  “There is some poetic justice in the idea of a Seeker suffering along with me.  Now then, Leliana - what was it you were dying to show us?”

Leliana rolled her eyes, but gestured for the two of them to follow her.  Cassandra and Wynn walked on either side of her and just behind her, each trying to put as much space between them as they could.  Cassandra was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that there was another who had survived the conclave - and a mage at that, though she looked rather young to be a Senior Enchanter.  

A mage who, she had no doubt, had been happy with the rebellion, if her contempt for them was anything to go by.  If that was the case, then why had she been sent to the peace talks?

They exited the dungeon.  The Chantry was deserted, absent of both clergymen and pilgrims.  That was of no surprise to Cassandra; she doubted that Leliana would be comfortable letting just anyone into the Chantry when the two prime suspects in the Divine’s murder were there.  Leliana stopped before the large, oak doors of the Chantry and turned around to face the two of them.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again.  Brace yourselves.”

With that, she pivoted and pushed the doors open.

When confronted with the sight before her - of the hole tinged with green in the sky (looking at it too long made Cassandra feel nauseated), of the fearful people milling around Haven, and of the way the marks on her and Wynn’s hands seemed to react to the massive breach - Cassandra was forced to admit that yes, things could indeed get worse.


	2. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected. I have a feeling that that's going to be the case from now on - this is _not_ going to be a short story. Hope you enjoy!

Captured.  She’d been captured.

How the  _ fuck  _ had she been captured?

Wynn’s head spun, and it was only half-caused by a splitting headache.  Had the Templars ambushed her while she slept? She tried to remember where she’d made camp that night, and whether or not any of her people had been with her at the time.  She was about to curse herself for not being more careful in picking a campsite when she realized that she hadn’t been camped out the night before.

Maker’s breath, she hadn’t even been settling in to sleep.  She’d been arriving at the conclave, putting on a front of serenity, with her stolen documents saying that she was coming as the representative of the Aegan Circle in Orlais.  She’d faked the accent easily enough, and Evert had managed to scrounge together the type of outfit that an Orlesian mage would wear. She remembered that thing - itchy, uncomfortable, heavy.  Wynn detested high fashion.

Her distaste for all things Orlesian (except maybe their bread) wasn’t enough to quell the panic that was beginning to well up inside her.  They’d found her out.  _ How  _ had they found her out?  Had the Divine’s Left Hand somehow been tipped off, and they’d clobbered her in the head before she realized what was happening?  

Wynn couldn’t remember any pain, though.  If she’d been hit on the head, then she would almost certainly have a bruising somewhere.  She could just barely reach far up enough, in spite of her chains, to feel along her scalp, pressing down gently.  There was no lump that she could feel, and no pain spiked. Granted, she did have a headache, though that paled in comparison to her hand.

Her hand.  Her hand was an entirely different matter.

Wynn, in her internal crisis regarding her being in chains in some kind of dungeon, hadn’t noticed her hand at first.  Oh it had hurt, to be sure, but at first she’d assumed that she’d injured it falling, or something, until the pain flared and her hand glowed green.  That was enough to tip her off that something else was going on. In another effort to distract herself from her current situation, she studied her hand more carefully.

Wynn liked to think that she had become fairly knowledgeable about magic and the Fade in her 17 years in the Circle.  Sure, most of it went to help train the Templars there to fight mages (a task that she had somewhat enjoyed, if only because it gave her the opportunity to knock them around), but not  _ all  _ of her skills had been in battle.  Just most of them.

However, 17 years weren’t enough to prepare her for this.  She’d never seen anything like it, though the green did remind her of the Fade.  But this? To have the Fade somehow contracting around her hand - if that was even what was happening - this was unprecedented.  She made a mental note to ask Evert about it, if she made it out of there alive.

Wynn blew out a long breath.  It was too much. She was tempted to try to burn the chains away - her flame could be hot enough to melt metal - but that would likely only result in her being burned.

The door to her cell opened, and an expressionless guard stepped in - a soldier, not a Templar.  That wasn’t quite enough to keep Wynn’s hackles from rising, and she stared down the guard until they left.  A few minutes later, during which time Wynn tried to adjust herself so that she was sitting more comfortably, the door opened again, this time letting in an unfamiliar woman with red hair and a hood.  And the symbol of the Sunburst Throne on her vestments.

_ Shit _ .

“I’m glad you are awake,” the woman said, though she certainly didn’t  _ sound  _ glad.  “We have much to discuss, no?  Starting with what happened at the conclave.”

The words nearly made Wynn freeze.  What happened at the conclave. Past tense.  Meaning that the conclave had already taken place, and something had happened.  Something that she couldn’t remember? Or maybe she’d slept through it. She nearly snorted at the thought.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m sorry,” Wynn said, making it as insincere as possible.  “It’s just... was that a trick question? The conclave hadn’t started yet, last I remember.”

The woman lifted both eyebrows.  “At any other time, I might appreciate your wit, but I as it stands I’m not in the mood for jokes.  I need to know what happened. Don’t think you’re getting out of this cell until you tell me.”

“Then I guess I’ll be here forever,” Wynn said, scowling, “because  _ I don’t know _ .  I don’t remember.  The last thing I  _ do  _ remember is arriving, but anything after that is a mystery.”

“How convenient for you.”

“There’s nothing  _ convenient  _ about it.”

The woman’s face had no expression, but Wynn got the impression that she was already running thin on patience, all the same.  

“Alright, then.  Let’s try this a different way.  You are a mage, no?”

Wynn frowned.  That question was a formality, at best.  She highly doubted that, whoever this woman was, she didn’t already know.  “I am. What of it?”

Then it hit her: if the woman was asking her if she was a mage, then that meant that she didn’t know.  Her captors didn’t know who she was.

Wynn could’ve sagged in relief, but she kept herself still and kept her face from showing any of her jubilation.  Of course, that meant that they were holding her for an entirely different reason, but she’d take what she could get.  She refocused on the woman in front of her just in time to miss the tail end of her next question.

“Sorry,” she said, cursing her own slip of concentration.  “Could you repeat that?”

As if on cue, the mark on her hand flared again, and a cry of pain passed from her lips, unbidden.  It was some of the worst pain that Wynn had felt, and that included the time that she’d panicked when casting a fire spell and held it back within her, burning her hands and her wrists in the process.

The woman said, “What was your interest in the conclave?”

Ah.  The hundred coin question.

“I represent a small group of mages, who have been sheltering themselves in the Aegan Circle Tower,” she said.  “The First Enchanter leading us sent me to see what would come of the conclave. It... hasn’t been easy. They were hoping for peace.”

“They?”

Wynn snorted, and didn’t have to force contempt into her voice.  “Personally, I think it’s about time the rebellion happened. But my friend Everdred comes first.  He’s important to me.”

It was only a slight change from the disguise that Wynn had used at the conclave.  It was a gamble, but she was hoping that this woman wouldn’t have access to the the documents that Wynn had used to get in.  

Apparently not, because the woman asked, “But you are not from the Aegan Circle?”

“No.”  This part was close enough to the truth that Wynn felt more comfortable telling it.  “Everdred and I are from the Ostwick Circle, in the Free Marches. The fighting there was... brutal.  We got away while we could, and traveled south, hoping to find refuge from the conflict. We didn’t until we stumbled upon the group at Aegan.  Their First Enchanter was kind enough to allow us sanctuary.”

“And you are?”

Wynn inclined her head.  “Senior Enchanter Wynn Trevelyan.”  Thinking quickly - the more truthful she was, the more likely the woman would trust her - she added, “I was also the Ostwick Circle’s only Knight Enchanter.”

“A Knight Enchanter?  Impressive. I rarely hear about mages becoming Knight Enchanters, let alone mages who are as young as yourself.”

“To be fair,” Wynn pointed out, “Being younger has its advantages when you’re swinging around a blade made of pure spirit.”

The woman chuckled a bit, and Wynn mentally cheered.  “I imagine so. Fair’s fair, I suppose - I am Sister Leliana, the former Left Hand of the Divine.”

_ Double shit. _

It seemed that Wynn had taken a step forward, only to be pushed back two steps.  This time, however, she let her surprise show, knowing that a lack of reaction would be more suspicious.  

“The former Left Hand?” she said, incredulous.  “What on earth happened to warrant me being interrogated by the former Left Hand?”

Leliana said nothing at first, leaving Wynn to mull over her next move.  So far so good - she was reasonably certain that Leliana was buying her story.  It would be difficult to balance her stance on mage freedom with her lie about representing the Aegan Circle, but not everything had to make sense.  She was fairly certain that a perfect story with no holes in it would be treated with just as much, if not more, suspicion.

“Why would the First Enchanter send you?” Leliana finally asked.  “If you don’t want peace...”

Wynn was impressed by how quickly Leliana had honed in on one of the weaker points in her story.  “I was the only one that she could be reasonably sure would survive the journey to Haven. Most of the mages who took shelter at the Aegan Circle weren’t fighters.”

“That’s not surprising,” Leliana said.  “Your loyalty to this Everdred must be quite strong indeed.”

Wynn lowered her gaze, thinking not just of Evert, but of Uren, Nilani, Harsa, and so many others.  She tensed her muscles, knowing that she  _ had  _ to get this right, for their sakes if nothing else.   _ Hopefully,  _ she thought,  _ for the good of mages everywhere.   _ They were the ones that mattered.  They were still out there, and still counting on her.

“He means everything to me,” she said, raising gaze to meet Leliana’s once again.   _ They all do. _

Leliana held her gaze for a few long seconds, then nodded.  “Very well. I will summarize what occurred as briefly as I can.  Once that is done, I want you to tell me everything you remember from your time at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  

“Seems a fair trade,” Wynn said, though she knew that she wasn’t out of danger yet.

“Shortly after your arrival at the conclave, some kind of magical explosion occurred at the Temple.  In the explosion, everyone attending - including Justinia, several leaders from both the mages and the templars, and other high-ranking clerics - died.  The only exception to this is you.”

It was, Wynn would later reflect, probably the shortest, dryest account of the events.  Even so, it was delivered with all the force of a gut punch. 

The Divine  _ dead _ ?  Not even Wynn could’ve foreseen such a turn of events, and she was fairly good at guessing the moves of her enemies.  In some ways, the death of the Divine and the failure of the conclave would only make the chaos in Thedas worse. Both templars and mages would double down on their efforts to eliminate each other, if she discounted the group Fiona had hidden away in the Hinterlands.  In other ways, however, the turn of events presented a rare opportunity.

_ An opportunity that you can’t exactly make use of _ , she reminded herself,  _ considering you’re stuck in the dungeon of a chantry. _

If she could find a way to send word...

“It’s a lot to take in,” Leliana offered, and Wynn realized that she’d been silent for too long.  

“Apologies,” she said.  “You’re right, it is... a lot.  Not to mention that this situation isn’t exactly going to  _ help  _ my people.  Who do you think is going to get the blame now that this is happening?  If the common folk weren’t planning to string up mages in the street, before, they almost certainly are now.  Unless you were somehow, miraculously able to hide my survival from everyone.”

Leliana grimaced.  “Unfortunately not.”

“I must get back to Aegan immediately.  Will you release me?”

“I cannot.”

Wynn’s temper flared.  “And just why not?” she demanded.  “You are the Left Hand of the Divine, are you not?  Justinia is dead. You may as well call the shots now.”

“I am not a member of the clergy,” Leliana said.  “And as it is, you’d be surprised by how little the Chantry’s say matters right now.  Keeping you here is for your own safety. If you go out there now, that lynching you talked about?  It’ll happen.”

“And who’s going to protect other mages from the same?” asked Wynn.  

Leliana bowed her head.  “I’m sorry.”

“Leliana,  _ so help me _ \- “

Leliana straightened, her face now impassive.  “My apologies, Enchanter Trevelyan, but I am needed elsewhere.  I will be back within a few hours. We can continue this discussion then.”  She paused, and her expression softened. “I know you are angry, but please trust me: there is no more you can do now.”

“There is always more,” Wynn said.

Leliana said nothing in reply to that - merely cast her one last regretful look before she exited the cell, taking any hope of freedom with her.  Wynn slumped in her chains. 

“So much for your vow,” she murmured to herself.  “Guess you’re powerless again, aren’t you?”

* * *

 

The Breach swirled before her eyes.  Green lightning occasionally lanced through it, each one sending a spike of pain through her hand.  Wynn was by no means a coward (or at least, she liked to think she was no coward), but she found that she couldn’t look at the Breach for very long.  

Instead, she focused on Leliana, who was now addressing her and the Seeker.  How ironic, that the only other bearer of the strange mark should be a Seeker of Truth.  Wynn couldn’t stop herself from feeling on-edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. What would Pentaghast do?  She’d heard rumors of what Seekers were capable of. She was not eager to live through that kind of agony. 

Of course, if Pentaghast did do such a thing, Wynn would reply in kind - though her method of burning someone was external rather than internal.

Pentaghast seemed intent on ignoring Wynn’s presence, or staying as far away from her as possible.  Suspicious of her, no doubt, though if she was also claiming amnesia, then Wynn knew that there was no way for Pentaghast to know if she herself wasn’t the guilty one.  She filed that away for later use. 

“The Breach was caused by the explosion at the conclave,” Leliana was saying, bringing Wynn’s attention back to her.  “We don't know what caused the explosion, and no one has ever seen magic like it. For whatever reason, the marks on your hands are connected to it.”

And the marks were likely to cause some to condemn them.  Although, now that Wynn thought about it, it was very likely they would only condemn her.  People would be more unwilling to blame a revered Seeker of Truth.

“I also believe that your marks may be our only key to stopping the Breach.”

It was easy to see where this was going.  “Is this the part where you expect us to go fix it?” Wynn asked.

“I see no reason why not,” the Seeker said, speaking for the first time since Wynn had met her.  “Clearly the Breach is dangerous. Possibly to the entire world. Ignoring it would be a folly.”

Wynn rolled her eyes.  “If you can let us out in order to get us to help with your little problem, then you can let me go back to Aegan.  You already have a willing volunteer.”

“I could let you go now,” Leliana pointed out.  “And people would still condemn you  _ and _ the other mages.  If you were to stay, however, then you would be proving yourself to those who think you guilty.  By extension, the mages ought to be safe.”

Wynn let out an ugly laugh.  “You're awfully optimistic if you think this would convince people.”

“Do you have another option?”

Wynn gritted her teeth, but Leliana had a point.  If she ran now, her guilt would be a certainty. If she aided with the Breach, then there would at least be some doubt.  

_ Sometimes all you can do is mitigate. _

“Well played, Sister Leliana.”

The corner of Leliana's mouth lifted.  “I figured you'd see it my way. Come on then - we must find you both weapons.”

They followed Leliana over to a woman dressed in the garb of a Fereldan soldier.  Within moments, the Seeker was holding a simple sword and shield, her nose wrinkled with distaste.  Wynn waited her turn, eager to get a staff back in her hands.

“A staff will be a bit harder to find,” the soldier said.  “But I'm sure we've got one lying around here somewhere. One moment.”

She left.  Wynn was content to wait in silence, until Cassandra said, “Are you certain that Enchanter Trevelyan needs a weapon, Leliana?  She is likely dangerous enough already.”

Wynn covered up her anger by batting her eyelashes at Cassandra.  “Why Pentaghast - are you saying you'll protect me from the big bad demons?”

Cassandra glared at her.

Wynn dropped the act.  “You're right,” she said, summoning her spirit blade.  “I  _ don't _ need a staff.  So it shouldn't make a difference to you whether or not I have one, yes?  I can kill you either way.”

“I would not be so flippant when threatening me,” Cassandra said, voice low.  To her credit, she didn't seem intimidated by the spirit blade's sudden appearance.  

“Please endeavor not to kill one another before we get to the forward camp, at least?” Leliana asked.

Wynn dismissed her spirit blade, having caught sight of the soldier approaching with a staff.  She heard Cassandra mutter, “You could have mentioned that she is a Knight Enchanter.”

“Must've slipped my mind,” Leliana said.

“This was the only one I could find,” the soldier said, handing the staff to Wynn.  “Not exactly high-bar, but it’s what we’ve got.”

Wynn hefted it, testing the staff’s balance, before giving it a quick swing, imagining the skull of a templar cracking under it.  She grasped it in both hands, allowing her magic to flow into the woodwork, using the focus crystal to keep it contained. The weight wasn’t quite right, and it was weaker than her own staff (which had likely been destroyed), but it would do.  She opened her eyes and nodded in thanks at the soldier. 

“Shall we?” Leliana said.

The three of them made their way through Haven under the eyes of every pilgrim and soldier who was there - and there were many.  Wynn could feel their hostility burning into her back, as though each and every one of them had an arrow pointed at her back. She held her head high.  Let them think what they liked. There wasn’t anything she could do to change that.

She was bringing up the rear, with Cassandra in front of her.  Wynn wondered if Cassandra was on the receiving end of just as much hostility.  The thought made her snort quietly.

In the time that it took them to get to Haven’s gates, the Breach already looked larger.  Wynn was just barely managing to ignore the pain in her hand. The Seeker seemed to have no such problems with it, not even flinching when it flared up.  Wynn glared at her back whenever it did.

Leliana paused once they reached the mountain path up to the temple - or what used to be the temple.  

“Be careful,” she said.  “Expect demons ahead. They’ve been pouring from the Breach, and from smaller rifts in the Fade, ever since this happened.  We’ve been keeping them at bay - barely.”

“You mean there is more than just the Breach?” Cassandra asked.

Leliana offered a thin smile.  It looked eerie in the green light.

“Unfortunately?  Yes.”

They started up the path.  The wind that blew down from the mountains cut straight through Wynn’s measly armor (if it could even be called armor).  She tucked her staff under her elbow and blew gently on her hands, feeling warmth seep first into them, then up through her arms and into the rest of her body.  It would keep for the time being, though she knew she would have to renew the spell eventually.

They didn’t encounter any demons until they reached a frozen pond, at which point two shades morphed out of the Fade.  Suddenly, Leliana was armed with dual knives and was leaping at one of the shades, before quickly backing off and moving around behind it so that she could attack its back while Cassandra charged its front.

Wynn focused on the other.  It came at her with surprising speed - faster than she would have thought a shade could move.  She laid down a fire mine in front of her, waited until it was on top of it, then shifted her awareness, so that she could just barely see the murkiness of the Fade around her.  Time worked differently in the Fade, and she passed effortlessly through the shade, freezing it in place and setting off the fire mine all at once. When the Fade vanished, she turned to find that the demon was nothing but a corpse.

It was good to know that the mark didn’t impede her magic. 

“Impressive,” came Leliana’s voice from behind her.  Wynn turned to face her. “That’s a good one. You seem to be used to fighting, yes?”

Wynn shrugged.  “I was the mage that taught the templars how to fight other mages, yes.  My combat skills are more refined than most in the Circle.”

Cassandra sheathed her sword, black blood already staining her own green mercenary shirt.  “I do not envy any templars who had to spar with you.”

Wynn bared her teeth in a grin.  “Oh, they all did. It was a requirement.”

That much, at least, was true.  Senior Enchanter Lydia had known that she was good at fighting, and had made her the templars’ punching bag.  Not that many of them had been able to best her - her ability to step through the fade, combined with her spirit blade, often meant that she was the one victorious.  Only the seasoned veterans really stood a chance. It wasn’t the worst job that a mage could have in the Circle, and she had the grudging respect of some of the templars because of it.

It also kept her far away from the major research projects.  Not that that stopped her from doing some research of her own.

“Let’s keep moving,” Leliana said.  

Wynn nearly slipped on the ice a time or two.  The second time, she was hauled upright by Cassandra’s tight grip on her upper arm before she could slide back down the path.  She jerked her arm from Cassandra’s grasp, scowling at her.

“Fine,” Cassandra muttered.  “Next time I will let you fall.”

The path was longer and harder than Wynn remembered.  In addition to there now being even more wind and snow, they were halted periodically by the occasional demon.  She took it as an opportunity to get back into the rhythm of using her magic, even shouting for Leliana and Cassandra to get behind her so that she could send her wall of flames at three shades.  That one was harder for her to pull off, and as she looked at the charred corpses, she was pleased with how effective it turned out to be.

Eventually, Wynn was able to hear fighting up ahead.  She took off, stepping in and out of the Fade until she was practically on top of the fight.  She caught a glimpse of an elf and a dwarf, shouting to one another while they held off the demons, before a terror loomed up in front of her.

She didn’t hesitate, summoning her spirit blade and running it through without a second thought.  Wynn glanced around, laid a fire mine beneath the shade that the dwarf was firing at, and ran through the Fade to set it off.  The dwarf called out his thanks, but she was already running towards the last Shade.

Before she could get to it, however, the point of a sword was driven through its front.  It fell, revealing Cassandra behind it. She raised an eyebrow at Wynn.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re enjoying this a little too much?”

“What, you’re not?” Wynn retorted.  “I doubt you like being idle any more than I do, Pentaghast.”

“You’re both here!” the elf exclaimed, hurrying towards them and distracting them both from another argument.  “Excellent. Quickly - one of you must - “

“Must what?” Cassandra asked sharply.

The elf shook his head, then grabbed Wynn’s wrist and thrust her hand at the rift in the Fade.  At that moment, Wynn felt something in her center, where her magic was,  _ connect  _ to the rift, pulling its energy towards her.  It was an alien sensation, and she almost jerked away from the elf, but he was likely onto something.

Only it wasn’t enough.

The elf nodded at Cassandra.  “I believe you must do the same, Seeker Pentaghast.”

Cassandra shot him a dubious look, but she cautiously raised her hand towards the rift as well.  A thin stream of green light connected her to the rift, and she grimaced, likely feeling the same thing Wynn felt.  It would be even more foreign for a Seeker of Truth, Wynn realized.

With a snap, the rift collapsed in on itself, deprived of the energy to stay open.  The pain in Wynn’s hand eased just a bit, though not enough to be a true relief.

She glanced over at Cassandra to see the woman staring down at her own hand, a startled look on her face.

“Interesting,” the elf said.  Wynn focused on him once more.  “It would seem that the both of you are required to seal rifts.  I had wondered if that might be the case, though it would certainly have made it easier if only one of you was needed.”

“But now we know,” Leliana said, coming up to stand beside Cassandra.  “You  _ can  _ do it.  We might even be able to seal the Breach itself.  That is, if you two are willing to tolerate one another’s presence for a little longer.”

“Tolerate the Seeker?” the dwarf said, folding his arms.  “Perish the thought.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him.  “What are you still doing here, Varric?”

“Well, see, the giant hole in the sky put a bit of a damper on my plans to get back to Kirkwall.”

“I asked him to stay,” Leliana said.  “We need all the help we can get, and Varric’s crossbow packs quite the punch.”

“Anytime, Nightingale.”

“How on earth did you convince him?” Cassandra asked.

“It’s called asking nicely, Seeker,” Varric said.  “Considering you’re in about as deep shit as the rest of us, you might want to worry about questioning me later.  That mark on your hand isn’t going to wait.”

Wynn was curious about what had happened between Cassandra and Varric - clearly something had stirred up some bitterness between them.  Either that, or their personalities just clashed. That was always possible.

“Well,” the elf said, and Wynn nearly jumped - she’d forgotten he was standing next to her.  “They may bicker all day. Perhaps if we start moving, they’ll take the hint and follow?”

Wynn snorted.  “I doubt Pentaghast would be willing to follow  _ me  _ anywhere, but I suppose we have little choice.”  She eyed his choice of clothing, and his staff - all of which would have looked out of place in a Circle tower.  “Apostate? You don’t appear to be from the Circle, or the Dalish.”

He smiled thinly, and they started past where the Fade rift had been continuing up the mountain path.  “Very perceptive. My name is Solas. I am glad to see that you and the Seeker yet live.”

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “That’s a very roundabout way of telling me that you saw us while we were unconscious,” she said.  “Why did Leliana permit you to visit us?”

“Simple: I prevented the mark from killing you both.  Not easily, however, and I feared that you would never awaken.”

Wynn felt a trace of unease at the idea of a mage that she didn’t know performing healing spells on her, but aside from said mark, she was none the worse for wear.  “Thank you, then.”

“You are quite welcome.  And what about you? Fellow apostate?”

Wynn chuckled.  “Technically speaking, yes.  Though I was a part of the Circle, until the rebellion began.  Ostwick, in the Free Marches.”

“Free Marches, huh?”  Varric trotted up next to them; evidently he and Cassandra had finished their argument.  “Ostwick? No offense, but I heard that that place was kinda stuffy.”

Wynn laughed.  “None taken - it  _ is  _ stuffy.  I don’t miss it.”

“Truly?” Solas asked.  “There was never a time when you thought of it as home?”

Wynn thought of riding on Evie’s shoulders, laughing and playing with her long, dark hair.  She thought of the friend she’d made as a child in the Circle, before that friend had been sent away.  She thought of feeling content, like she was grounded. 

She shook her head.  “Not for a very long time.”

Solas was quiet for a long moment, before he murmured, “A pity.”

Wynn decided not to ask what he meant by that.

They encountered a few more demons on their way up the mountain to the forward camp.  Since Wynn, Solas, and Varric were walking together in front, they were the ones who rushed in first when they encountered more demons.  Cassandra and Leliana brought up the rear; when those two weren’t fighting, their heads were bent together as they talked quietly together.  Sometimes, Wynn strained to hear what they were saying, but she could never make out anything concrete.

They were waved into the forward camp, which was set up on a bridge, by more soldiers.  Leliana immediately headed over to where a man wearing a red, fur mantle and a member of the clergy were arguing, smoothly inserting herself into the conversation.  Standing a few feet away, with a harried expression on her face, was a dwarf, who was shouting orders at several soldiers.

“No, no, not there!” she cried, dragging her hands down her face.  “These are the only artifacts that we were able to save from the Temple, do you want them to be covered in snow?”

Wynn decided it was best not to ask what the deal was with that, so she turned away just in time to see Leliana waving her and Cassandra over.

The clergyman looked outraged.  “You  _ let them out _ ?”

“We are lucky that I did,” Leliana replied.  “Or else we might not have a chance.”

“What chance?” the man snapped.  “I demand that you send them to Val Royeaux to stand trial.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra said.  “And people wonder why I have no patience for politics.  Perhaps it has escaped your notice, Chancellor Roderick, but there is a giant hole in the sky.  It needs to be closed. We are the only ones capable of closing it. Perhaps, once that is done, you could have your trial.”

Roderick scowled.  “And apparently I’m the only one who thinks it a poor idea to send our two suspects to the site of the explosion.  Especially when one is an apostate mage.”

“Why?” Wynn asked.  “Do  _ you  _ want to go instead?  None of us are stopping you.”

The other man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Your clamoring about is the opposite of helpful, Chancellor.  Just... go sit quietly, and let us do our jobs. There’s been enough trouble already.”

That made Roderick splutter in rage, but to Wynn’s surprise, he did as he was told, instead going to speak to the dwarf woman.  Wynn opened her mouth to thank the man when her breath got caught in her throat.

His ring.  She knew that ring.  It was a Templar’s ring.

A Templar wasn’t as alarming as, say, a Seeker of Truth, but it was still enough to make her blood freeze.  Memories of being smited one too many times came to mind, and she almost shuddered. The man didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, speaking to Cassandra instead.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said.  “Roderick’s been stirring up a fuss in Haven for several days, now.  He’s part of the reason we had to make sure that people couldn’t get into the Chantry to try and kill you.  For what it’s worth, I don’t believe you’re guilty.”

Wynn noticed that she was excluded from that belief.  

“Thank you, Cullen,” Cassandra said.  “That is good to hear, though I would prefer knowledge to belief.”

“I’m sure,” Cullen said.  “Now, as for the situation at the temple - there is another Fade rift there, larger than the ones you've already seen.  In spite of that, it's been fairly quiet - no demons.”

“It is likely closed,” Solas interjected.  “Albeit incorrectly. It will need to be reopened, then closed properly.”

“I suppose that's where we come in?” Wynn asked.

“Somehow I doubt trying it without you would go over well,” Varric answered.

“Of course we will help,” Cassandra said to Cullen.  “In spite of reluctance from certain members of the party.”

Varric laughed.  “You talking about one of us, Seeker, or three of us?”  He gestured to himself, Solas and Wynn.

To Wynn’s surprise, Cassandra ignored him.  “I assume you have a plan, Cullen? Leliana?”

“That's a generous term for it,” Leliana said, exchanging glances with Cullen, “but yes.”

“Really inspiring confidence, Nightingale.”

“ _ Thank you _ , Varric.”  Leliana rolled her eyes.  “The plan is quite simple.  We charge the Temple with Cullen's forces at our back, then close the Rift.  That's it.”

Nothing special.  Not like they were trying to close a giant hole in the sky, or anything.  Wynn was starting to think that her getting out of this alive was somehow even less likely than it had been before - and that had been when execution in Val Royeaux was still a threat.

Even Cassandra looked pained.  “Truly? There are no other options?”

Leliana shrugged.  “We could also have the soldiers charge as a distraction while you take the mountain path.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I thought you’d say that.”

Wynn stepped forward, anticipation and anxiety making her impatient.  “Can we get moving then? I want to get this over with.”

Cullen nodded.  “I’ll gather every soldier I can.  As soon as we have enough, we can move out.”

Leliana looked at Cassandra first, then Wynn.  “You may want to rest, while you can. This will not be easy.  Anything you can do to gather strength, do it now.”

* * *

 

Wynn quickly discovered that full-on battles were trickier.  Fire magic was difficult to control, but she had to reign it in lest she burn her allies.  Still, there were plenty of enemies to go around, and many had fallen to her flames and her spirit blade by the time the horde thinned.

Varric and Solas gravitated to her after the battle.  Wynn got the sense that they preferred her company to Cassandra's or Leliana's.  Not that she blamed them.

“So,” Varric said.  “You're better in a fight than most circle mages I know.”

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “You know a lot of Circle mages, then?”

“Met a few, here and there,” he said vaguely.  “But that's beside the point. Did you ever consider joining the Thorn Coalition?”

Wynn almost froze, and her stomach started tying itself into knots.  She was saved from having to answer, however, by Solas shooting Varric an odd look and saying, “Do you really think a Thorn Coalition member would have wanted to go near the conclave?”

“Point taken, Chuckles.”  Varric examined his crossbow before strapping it to his back.  “Although I was only asking if she  _ considered _ it.”

By then, Wynn had had time to compose herself.

“I've considered it,” she said.  “But I had people to look after. I couldn't just go running into the wilderness to fight Templars.”

Varric opened his mouth, but quickly shut it when Cassandra and Leliana made their way over.

“Come,” Leliana said.  “We must hurry.”

Wynn glanced at Varric, who shrugged and turned towards the temple - or rather, what was left of the temple.

There were a few structures that still stood - pillars and crumbled walls - but most of the temple had been decimated.  Looking at it now, Wynn could no longer tell that there had ever been an upper floor of the temple. It seemed unlikely that her staff had survived the blast.

The main rift floated above it all, bathing the ruins in a green glow.  Closing the smaller rifts didn't seem to take anything out of her or Cassandra, but this...

“Let's find a way down,” Cassandra said.

If nothing else, Wynn admired her tenacity.

They had to circle around, trying to find a place where the drop wouldn't be too high.  None of them were speaking now, the weight of the rift heavy on all of them. It felt as though something was pressing down on Wynn’s lungs, the more she looked at it.

She was so distracted by it that she nearly ran head-first into a spike of red crystal -  _ glowing _ red crystal.  She was yanked back by a strong grip on her arm, and turned to see Varric with a grim look on his face.

“Don't touch that,” he said quietly.

Ordinarily Wynn would have asked why, but something about the look on his face stopped her, and she only nodded.

“Red lyrium?” Cassandra asked.

“Got it in one, Seeker.”

Wynn made a mental note to ask about it later.  If there  _ was  _ a later.

After passing more of the red lyrium, they finally found a ledge with a reasonable drop, then another that led to the center of the ruin.  When Wynn’s feet hit the ground, a voice rang out over the ruin - one that, though Wynn couldn’t identify it, sent chills down her spine.

“Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Everyone stopped moving, but Solas said, “It is merely a reflection in the Fade.  There is no one else here.”

Before anyone had the chance to reply, another voice echoed through the ruin.  This time, Wynn recognized it.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Even in the moments where Cassandra had spoken harshly to Wynn, she’d never heard her sound so enraged.  That had been more of a roar than a shout. Cassandra herself looked both shocked and relieved to hear it, and Wynn’s heart sank at the realization that they now had what was essentially proof of Cassandra’s innocence - but no proof of her own.

“Cassandra!”  That accented voice had to be the Divine’s.  “Run! You can’t fight him! Warn everyone!”

Wynn noticed that Varric was shooting her a sympathetic look.  So, he had noticed too.

“I suggest you back away from the Divine.  You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Her own voice.

Wynn let out a long breath, before realizing that nearly everyone else was staring at her now.  Even Cassandra.

“You were there, too,” she said.  “You fought whoever did this.”

Wynn inclined her head.  “That was never in doubt, at least not to me.  But of course, I’m a mage. Why would you take me at my word?”

Cassandra said nothing in reply, but her surprise faded into annoyance.

“Let us finish this and be done with it,” she grumbled.

Wynn followed Cassandra over to the Rift, taking up a position on the opposite side of it from Cassandra.  Behind her, Leliana shouted orders to the soldiers who were surrounding the Temple, her voice clear and strong.  That surprised Wynn; for whatever reason, she had been unable to imagine Leliana shouting.

She looked back over at Cassandra, who nodded and extended her hand.  Wynn followed suit.

This time, rather than feeling something being pulled into her, Wynn felt the Rift take something out.  She grimaced, the sensation somehow even worse. The explosion as the Rift open was nearly enough to blind her, and she didn’t see a Pride demon take a swing at her until it was too late.

“Look out!”

Without warning someone slammed into her, knocking her out of the way.  Cassandra took the brunt of the blow on her shield, but it still sent her flying through the air.  The pride demon roared, electricity crackling in its fists, and all hell broke loose.

Wynn set a fire mine beneath its feet and darted out of range before it could try to hit her again.  She immolated in the same spot, which also set off the fire mine, setting it howling. Arrows began to fly through the air, some bouncing off its thick hide, while others found softer spots near its joints.  Cassandra was already back up on her feet, charging the demon, and Wynn moved through the Fade again so that she was behind it, summoning her spirit blade.

Her blow caught it behind the knees, sending it into a stumble just as Cassandra reached it.  Its head was now level with her, and Cassandra wasted no time, driving her sword into one of its eyes.

It let out a sound somewhere between a roar and a scream, and suddenly there were shades to contend with as well.  They surrounded Cassandra, who (now distracted by new opponents), didn’t seem able to deal with both the shades and the pride demon.

Wynn gritted her teeth.  It was risky, but she didn’t have many options.

She set a fire mine underneath Cassandra, then darted through the Fade and grabbed her, dragging her over to where Leliana was shooting at the shades.  The fire mine exploded, taking down several shades with it, and the others were quickly finished off by the combined efforts of Leliana, Varric, Solas, and the soldiers.

The pride demon, on the other hand, appeared to still be going strong, even without one of its eyes.

“How do we beat it?” Cassandra said.  “That blow to its eye should have killed it!”

Wynn’s mind raced.  “Maybe the open rift is giving it more power,” she said.  “If we can find some way to weaken the rift...”

“Then we can take down the demon,” Cassandra finished.  “We will need some kind of distraction.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Leliana said, then without warning rushed forward, exchanging her bow for her daggers.  

Wynn’s jaw dropped.  “Are you insane?” she shouted after her, but Cassandra shook her head.

“Don’t worry about Leliana,” she said.  “Let’s get closer to the Rift. She won’t be able to buy us much time.  But do  _ not  _ drag me again - whatever that was, it nearly made me vomit.”

“Fine with me,” Wynn replied.  “Let’s just get moving.”

They sprinted, each taking one side of the Rift once again.  Wynn reached for the Rift, feeling the moment when she got close enough to connect to it again.  This time she was pulling energy into herself, taking it from the Rift, and she could see Cassandra doing the same.  She gritted her teeth, but noticed that the Pride demon seemed to finally be slowing down.

On the other side of the Rift, Cassandra shouted, “ _ Now _ !  Hit it with everything you have!”

Arrows rained down on it from all sides.  Varric hurried forward, sending a crossbow bolt that exploded in its face.  Solas was right behind him, his normally serene face set in concentration, before something like a green fist caught the demon in the throat.  Then Leliana was suddenly in front of it, and she sank both daggers into two more of its eyes.

It didn’t even roar this time, only shuddering before it collapsed to the ground.  Wynn let out a shout as her mark started absorbing even more of the energy from the Rift, and for a moment she felt like she was going to either fly or implode with the amount of magic that was pouring straight into her - 

Then the rift collapsed with a resounding crash, sending a beam of light up to the Breach.  For a terrible moment, the agony in her hand flared worse than ever before, tearing a scream out of her throat.

Then darkness.


	3. Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Cassandra's POV for this one - we deal with the aftermath of closing the rift at the temple. AKA no one is happy about being called the Herald of Andraste.

Although it was Cassandra’s second time awakening in an unfamiliar place, she had to admit that it was much more pleasant this time around.

For one thing, she was on a bed.  A small bed, in a relatively spartan room.  She was in someone’s home - that much was clear from the quaint decor that she could see.  She scowled, hoping that Leliana had not forced someone out just so that she could have a place to rest for a while, when suddenly the events prior to her waking up came back to her.

Had they succeeded?

Cassandra’s hand no longer blazed in agony, but as she lifted it, it still crackled with energy.  The sensation no longer caused her pain, however; rather, she only felt a slight tingle. It was only uncomfortable if she thought about the implications of there being magic in her hand, so she firmly pushed those thoughts from her mind.

She got up, surprised when she realized that she felt well-rested - good, even.  Any muscle aches leftover from whatever had happened at the Conclave seemed to have faded, which begged the question: had magic healed her, or had she been out for longer than she thought?

Someone had dressed her in a wool tunic and trousers, rather than the clothes she’d been wearing as a prisoner.  They had not, however, left her a set of armor. Cassandra climbed to her feet carefully, waiting for dizziness to hit her.  When there was none, she stretched her limbs. She would likely have to commission a smith for a new set, and though she didn’t enjoy the idea of going out to Haven without armor, she would have to bear its absence.

She stepped out the door of the cabin, pausing when nearly a hundred eyes seemed to swivel her way.  Everyone in Haven, it seemed, had gathered to wait for her to wake up, and within moments they were whispering to one another as they stared at her.  Cassandra’s first instinct was to scowl at them, but she kept her expression closed instead, suddenly wishing she at least had a sword with her.

Leliana was likely at the Chantry, waiting for her.  Cassandra straightened her back and strode purposefully towards it, with the crowd easily parting for her.  Her unease only increased as she passed by more and more people, all of whom had the same reaction upon seeing her: shock, elation, awe.

_ As if it wasn’t bad enough being the so-called ‘Hero of Orlais’ _ , she thought.

The Chantry, thankfully, was quieter.  Only a scattered group of Chantry sisters and brothers were present, and though they stared as well, it was far less overwhelming.  Cassandra headed towards the back room of the Chantry, where she could hear voices that she recognized. The angry bluster of Roderick was the loudest, but as she came closer, she could also hear Leliana’s pointed words.

“...fools to think the Chantry would ever accept - “

“What the Chantry believes is less relevant than ever, Chancellor,” Leliana interrupted.  “Without the Templars or the Mages, public confidence in the Chantry itself has waned. The important thing is that the  _ people  _ believe this - “

“Yes, the people in  _ Haven _ ,” he snapped.  “Who outside of Haven is going to take this drivel seriously?   _ You’re  _ not even taking it seriously!”

Cassandra pushed the door open, raising an eyebrow when the two jumped at her entry.  She let it swing shut behind her, folding her arms as she came to stand in front of a makeshift war table, which had maps of Thedas spread across it.  Leliana and Roderick were the only two in the room, making Cassandra wonder where Cullen was - if he was even still in Haven.

Leliana’s moment of shock faded quickly, replaced by a smile.  “I’m happy to see you’re awake,” she said. “We have much to discuss.”

“It would appear so,” Cassandra answered.  “You may start with why everyone is staring at me as though I am shooting rainbows out of my - “

Roderick coughed loudly.  “I don’t see how any of this is relevant.  Former Seeker Pentaghast and the mage - Trevelyan was her name, yes? - must be escorted to Val Royeaux immediately for trial.”

“Is that an order, Chancellor?” Leliana asked, sounding amused.  “I think perhaps you are overstepping.”

“Then you could at least stop this blasphemy from spreading!”

Cassandra ran out of patience.  “What ‘blasphemy’?”

“It’s minor at most,” Leliana said, though she spoke too quickly for Cassandra’s liking.  “Just a rumor that began after you and Wynn stabilized the Breach - “

Cassandra jerked.  “We only stabilized it?  It is still - “ She hadn’t even bothered to look, too preoccupied with everyone’s attention on her.

“Yes,” Leliana said.  “But it is no longer growing.  Likewise, the Mark on your and Wynn’s hands seems to have stopped growing as well.  Your lives should be safe.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to ask about the blasphemy again, but her question was answered for her when Wynn barged into the room, eyes blazing.  Cassandra was almost tempted to move out of the way, as Wynn seemed to have the temperament of a small typhoon at that moment, but she stayed put.  Wynn came to stand next to her, glaring at Leliana.

“The ‘Herald of Andraste’?” she spat.  “Exactly what game are you playing, Leliana?”

Leliana appeared unfazed.  “This is not a game for me, Enchanter.”

“Oh don’t bother with the title,” Wynn said, waving her hand.  “It’s useless anyhow. I’d like to know how everyone in Haven got it into their heads that I’m going to be their savior and that somehow I’m Andraste’s messenger!  You told me that I would be permitted to leave if I helped with the Breach!”

“You may leave, if you wish,” Leliana said, shrugging, while Roderick spluttered in protest next to her.  “But I am not so sure that is wise.”

“Why?” Wynn asked.  “Because you know that you need both me  _ and  _ Pentaghast in order to fix your little Breach problem for good?  So you didn’t need to actively do anything to get me to stay, but I suppose there was nothing wrong with letting people draw their own conclusions about us?”

Leliana said nothing.  Wynn let out an ugly laugh, turning to Cassandra.  

“Ask her why,” she said.  “Ask her why they’re calling us the Heralds of Andraste.”

Before Cassandra had a chance to say anything, Roderick surprised her by answering.

“The guards who found you both said that there was a woman in the Fade rift behind you.  Now the fools are insisting that it must have been Andraste, since you both assisted in stopping the Breach from growing.”

Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat.  It couldn’t be possible - could it? She had prayed to Andraste for guidance more times than she could count, but she had never once entertained the possibility that Andraste would  _ actually  _ appear to her.  The possibility was ludicrous...

Wasn’t it?

Wynn clearly thought so, judging by the way she rolled her eyes.  “I suppose I should come to expect this kind of nonsense from followers of the Chantry.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow.  “You are from the Free Marches, yes?  Are you not Andrastian?”

“In the superficial sense, only,” Wynn answered.  Then, more quietly, “I stopped believing a long time ago.”

“A heretic on top of everything else,” Roderick muttered.

“Enough,” Leliana said, her tone enough to quiet everyone (though Wynn still had a murderous look on her face).  She looked at Cassandra and Wynn, her expression softening. “I’m sure you two are hungry - you’ve been sleeping for almost a day, now.  We’ve set up a kitchen in the first house on the right from the Chantry - they’ll be happy to give you something to eat.”

Roderick threw up his hands and stormed out of the room, apparently accepting that he would be getting nowhere with his demands.  Wynn was quick to follow, her own scowl nearly as deep, though from the way she wrung her hands, Cassandra guessed that she was anxious as well.  

Cassandra wasn’t eager to catch up to Wynn, so she followed at a slower pace - one that quickened when she got outside and was reminded of the stares.  The cooks, thankfully, didn’t waste time gaping at the two of them, and they stood awkwardly on opposite times of the kitchen, avoiding eye contact. Common sense told Cassandra that she should probably try to make conversation with Wynn, but it was clear that Wynn wanted nothing to do with her.  

Besides, conversation had never been a specialty of hers.

Wynn headed further away from the Chantry once she had her meal, ostensibly going back to wherever it was she’d been staying.  Cassandra, on the other hand, went to a secluded spot behind the Chantry to eat her meal, hiding from prying eyes and needing the space to think.  The Chantry was frigid against her back, and it served to ground her while her thoughts spun in circles.

In less than a week, she had lost her memory of what happened at the conclave, was accused of killing the Divine and many others, helped Leliana (who was the one holding her prisoner) stabilize a hole in the sky, and then become a hero to the people of Haven - the ‘Herald of Andraste’.  She didn’t know which part of it disturbed her the most, but her mind kept coming back to the title that had been bestowed upon her and Wynn. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was an imposter, nor could she rid herself of the anxiety that someone would find out that she was false, that she was not the hero that they believed her to be.

Cassandra had always seen a clear path forward, and that had not changed even after she had woken up with the strange mark on her hand.  It had been easy to see what to do next: go to the Breach and close it, or die trying. Now, however, she had survived, and become a savior in the eyes of the people at Haven.  What did she do? Deny the moniker given to her whenever it was whispered near her?

There were too many things to consider - too many decisions to make.  Cassandra lost her appetite halfway through her meal, and wound up giving it to children playing near the Chantry.  She avoided eye contact with them, ignoring the way they gathered in a group and whispered to one another after she headed to the Chantry doors.  

She found a quiet room off to the side of the Chantry, taking a lit candle with her.  Praying had always been a way for her to quiet her mind and organize her thoughts. She recited verses of the Chant that she had once whispered to herself after her brother’s death.  The death of Justinia did not hit her quiet as hard, and yet...

In some ways, Justinia had been like Cassandra.  She had known what must be done to end the mage-templar war, and she had acted - regardless of what others in the Chantry had thought of her.  Cassandra herself had believed in the vision Justinia had, and had been so certain that if anyone could succeed in finally bringing some peace to Thedas, it was Justinia.

And yet it had backfired.  Spectacularly.

Now Justinia was nothing but ashes, and Cassandra suspected that the fighting had likely only escalated.  Both the mages and the templars would blame the other for the explosion at the conclave. More would die, and there was the Breach to contend with as well.  Not to mention they had no clue as to who had caused it.

_ It might even have been me, _ Cassandra thought, but she brushed that aside.  She could not afford to doubt her innocence in that matter, no matter how much the idea festered in the back of her mind.  She had heard her voice challenging whoever had attacked the Divine. That had to be proof enough.

Wynn’s own threat echoed through her mind as well, and her thoughts turned to the mage.

Wynn had proven, if nothing else, that she was deadly in a fight - but apart from that, Cassandra had no idea what to make of her.  Her hostility seemed to be reserved for Chantry officials, Seekers, and Templars; she had been amiable, almost friendly, towards Solas and Varric.  When Wynn was angry, she carried herself with a familiar pride, and there was a kind of charisma in the way she spoke. 

Cassandra would have guessed at noble birth, but Wynn also had a blatant disregard for status of any kind.  It showed in the fact that she addressed Leliana by name, despite only knowing her for a short time. Her use of magic was also unconventional, in that she seemed in her element when fighting.  Cassandra had only ever met one Knight Enchanter in the past, but their movements had been elegant, almost like a dancer’s. Wynn, on the other hand, had been brutal, visceral, and efficient.

Cassandra supposed it was admirable, in its own way.  

She became aware that she had stopped speaking the verses some time ago.  She also became aware that someone was in the room with her. Turning her head, she caught sight of Leliana in her periphery.

“You were lost in thought for some time,” Leliana said.  “I can leave, if you’d rather be alone.”

Cassandra’s automatic response was to agree, but then she paused.  “Actually,” she replied, “I would... rather have some company, at the moment.  I assume you would too, or you would not be here.”

Leliana chuckled.  “You’re not wrong.”  She came around to sit cross-legged on the other side of the candle, her smile fading.  For the first time since Cassandra had awoken in the cell beneath the Chantry, she noticed the circles beneath Leliana’s eyes and the haunted look on her face.  Her heart went out to her friend, remembering that Justinia and Leliana had always been close.

“How are you handling all of this?” she asked.

Leliana looked startled.  “I was going to ask you that.”

“Indulge me.”

Leliana was silent for a long moment, lowering her gaze to her hands, which were folded in her lap.  She let out a long, weary sigh, her shoulders slumping.

“...I will recover,” she said.  “In time. Justinia meant a lot to me.”

“I know,” Cassandra said.  Were it not for the candle in the way, she would have embraced her friend.  As it was, she tried to convey her sympathy through her words. “The world has felt a great loss, but sometimes there is nothing heavier than the loss of a dear friend.”

Leliana chuckled, though it was without mirth.  “That is true enough. And I know that she was your friend too.”  She paused. “I am sorry that you were detained and interrogated. I know that the idea that you might have been responsible - I know it must have been... difficult.”

Cassandra sighed.  “You had no choice, Leliana,” she said.  “As a matter of fact, I would likely have berated you if you did not lock me up.  I could not even trust myself at the time.” Looking down at her hand, she added, “I am still not sure if I can trust myself.”

Leliana said nothing to that.  Cassandra didn’t take it personally; Leliana trusted no one.  Not truly.

“So,” Leliana said.  “I wish we had more pleasant topics to discuss, but... the Herald of Andraste.  How are you taking it?”

Cassandra snorted.  “I could pretend I am handling it better than Enchanter Trevelyan,” she said, “but the truth is, I cannot seem to wrap my head around it.  For the most part, I do not think that Andraste would have chosen me for anything. But... there is a small part of me that wonders.”

“That seems like a reasonable reaction,” Leliana pointed out.  “I confess that I find my own faith... shaken, at the moment.”

There was hesitancy in her voice - a hesitancy that Cassandra couldn’t blame her for.  People who had met Cassandra assumed that she would condemn any word against the Maker, and she could not fault them for having that impression.  She and Leliana were friends, certainly, but they rarely had the sort of talks where they discussed their own insecurities. 

Perhaps it was time to change that.

“A lot has happened in the last few days,” Cassandra said.  “I think anyone’s faith could be shaken by it.”

“Not yours,” Leliana said.

“Just because I have said nothing of it does not mean it hasn’t happened.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t ask her to elaborate.  “I just...” She let out a frustrated sigh, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.  “The Maker asks everything of his followers. Justinia gave him more than most, and he just... she’s just  _ dead _ ?  Just like that?  If he is truly out there, how am I to believe that he cares?  How am I to believe that he is truly out there at all, when she is gone?”

Cassandra mulled over her answer.  Those same questions were ones she asked herself every so often - why had the Maker allowed Anthony to die?  Why had Galyan had to perish at the conclave, along with Justinia herself? In the past, her answer had come to her easily, even though it was not one that was easy to hear: she had to be where she was, in that moment, and she would not have gotten there without those things happening.

And yet, where she was right now - with a strange magical mark on her hand, putting up with the company of a hostile mage, with everyone believing her to be more than she was - how could this be what the Maker meant for her?

“You have had the same thoughts,” Leliana deduced quietly.

“Similar ones, yes,” Cassandra said.  “I think that the only thing that can be done is to move forward, until my path becomes clear once again.  It will not be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.”

Leliana smiled.  “That is very wise.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, ignoring her own blush.  “I am not sure you could call it that. ‘Practical’ might be a better word.”

“Well, either way,” Leliana said, “it is good advice.  I think I might follow your example in this. Move forward.  Perhaps my doubts can be addressed once we are not on the brink of an apocalypse.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra muttered.  “Don’t remind me.”

* * *

 

Cassandra had assumed that Wynn would have to be dragged back into the war room kicking and screaming, but when she and Leliana met Cullen there it was to find Wynn already present.  She was leaning against the wall in a corner of the room, arms folded across her chest, her eyes darting between the two of them.

In the time that Cassandra and Leliana had been talking, Wynn had found a harness for her staff; it now sat on her back, probably to remind everyone that she was not to be trifled with.  She also wore a battered set of the same armor that the soldiers here wore. Her hair was wet, though Cassandra had no idea where she’d taken a bath. She made a mental note to ask Leliana later, suddenly conscious of her own hygiene.

“You have decided to stay?” Leliana asked.

“I haven’t decided anything,” Wynn replied.  “But I admit to some curiosity regarding what  _ you’re  _ going to do.  I wouldn’t consider myself an expert on Chantry history, but even I know that it’s a little bit unusual for a former Left Hand to amass a small army.”

Cassandra glanced at Leliana.  For once, she knew exactly what was going through the other woman’s mind.

Cullen entered the room behind them, silently moving to stand on one side of the war table.  Cassandra blinked when an Antivan woman followed behind him, seemingly absorbed in a roll of parchment she was holding.  She’d been expecting Cullen, but not whoever this woman was.

“Cassandra?”  Leliana said, drawing her attention back to her.  “Would you like to do the honors?”

She was holding the book.  Cassandra wondered whether Leliana had had it on her person the entire time they were talking, or if she’d grabbed it at some point, though Cassandra could not for the life of her think of when that had happened.  For a moment, she found it hard to believe that this was actually happening - that they were actually going through with Justinia’s plan, even though its architect was gone. Was it truly the right course of action?

_ Who else will act? _ she asked herself.  There was no room for doubt.

She took the book from Leliana’s hands, and swallowed.

“It’s a book,” Wynn stated flatly.

Cassandra shot her a glare.  “How very observant of you.” She looked at everyone gathered in the room.  “This is a writ from Divine Justinia authorizing the rebirth of the Inquisition.”

The silence that followed that statement nearly suffocated her.  Wynn’s eyes had narrowed, and she now stared at the book with a wary look on her face.

“Originally, its purpose was to end the mage-templar war and restore order to Thedas,” Cassandra continued.  “In light of recent events, however, its purpose is now to close the Breach, find out who was responsible for it, and ensure that they face justice.  We do not ask for approval from the Chantry, or any ruling regime in Thedas. We are merely doing what must be done, because there is no one else to do it.”

Leliana took over.  “We are all here because we believe in its cause.  Cullen - you have some experience with soldiers and military strategy.  You are already serving as the commander of the Inquisition forces, and it is our hope that you continue to do so.”

Cullen bowed his head.  “It would be my honor.”

Leliana nodded, then turned to the unfamiliar woman.  “Lady Montilyet - “ And Cassandra caught a smirk on her face that spoke of some familiarity.  “Your accomplishments as the Antivan ambassador are well-known. I asked you here to serve the Inquisition in a similar capacity.”

Lady Montilyet smiled.  “And I am happy to do so, Sister Leliana.”

Leliana’s smirk turned into a fond smile, which faded as she and everyone else turned their eyes to Wynn.

“Enchanter Trevelyan,” she said.  “Apologies - Wynn. To put it simply, the Mark on your hand means that we cannot do this without you.  And, to that end, because you have shown valid concerns about the fate of the mages in Thedas, I am offering you the chance to oversee the mages of the Inquisition.  There are not many, but I think they would feel at ease with one of their own in the inner circle.”

The only sign of Wynn’s surprise was the slight lift of her eyebrows.  “You don’t know me very well,” she pointed out. “And I don’t know these mages.  Why put their fates in my hands?”

“I’m typically good at reading people,” Leliana said.  “And though I admit you are more difficult than most, one thing that is clear is that you deeply care for other mages.  They already hold you in high esteem for your efforts to close the Breach. It won’t be very difficult to secure their loyalty.”

Cassandra shot Leliana a look - this was not something they had discussed, and she still couldn’t say that she trusted Wynn.  Leliana did not waver, however, her eyes never leaving Wynn’s. As for Wynn herself, she had a slight frown on her face; obviously she was still somewhat reluctant.

“If it makes you feel better,” Leliana added, “I’ve already sent word to Aegan.  They know that you’re alive and alright. If you accept, I can have another message sent to them explaining the situation within the hour.”

There was a beat of silence before Wynn sighed.  “Incidentally, I’m probably going to resent you for this for a very long time.”

“Noted,” Leliana said.

“Alright.”  Wynn’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment she looked much older.  “I accept.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Cassandra caught Wynn’s eye, resisting the urge to straighten her back.  Wynn was the first to look away.

“Now what?” she asked, appearing to address no one in particular.

Cassandra opened her mouth, unsure of what the next step was, and was grateful when Lady Montilyet brightened, stepping forward.

“Well,” she said.  “Our first order of business is to make Haven more convincing.  Shall we get started?”


	4. Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which certain revelations are made - but only to you, readers. Hope you enjoy!

When Leliana had told her ‘not many’, she hadn’t been kidding.

Since Cassandra and Leliana had declared the Inquisition two days prior, almost a hundred people had signed up to aid them.  Not one of them was a mage, which meant that Wynn was left with the list that Leliana gave her - a list that consisted of about eight mages in total.  The rest, Leliana informed her, with either with the rebellion or had remained loyal to the Circle and were likely holed up in Orlais.

It wasn’t much of a group, but they were at least enthusiastic about helping the Inquisition.  Probably more enthusiastic than Wynn herself was. They also tended to stick together, not quite comfortable around non-mages in spite of their rejection of the mage rebellion.  It had been easy to find them and eat breakfast with them, and she mentally crossed each of their names off of her list. Six out of eight of them, at least.

They were friendly enough.  Not to mention that they seemed awed that they were being led by one of the Heralds of Andraste.

Solas, of course, was another, and he didn’t seem all that inclined to socialize - even with other mages.  She checked on him after breakfast, informing him of her position within the Inquisition. 

“Ah,” he’d said.

“Are you disappointed?”

“Not as such,” Solas said.  “I am somewhat surprised. I gathered that Cassandra would not be amenable to putting you in a position of power so quickly.”

Wynn smirked.  “Do you know, I don’t believe she had any say in the matter.”

Solas didn’t share her amusement.  “Tread carefully, then. She may not make this easy for you.  And congratulations. Though you did not seem eager to stay, I am... glad that you are in charge of the mages.  Despite what Cassandra thinks of you.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Wynn accepted it with as gracious a nod as she could muster.

That left only one name on the list.  The other mages had told her that she was in a spare room in the Chantry.  Wynn noticed Cassandra kneeling along with several brothers and sisters, saying morning prayers, but she ignored them, heading for the room that the mages had directed her to.  She opened the door enough to poke her head through, surprised to see Josephine sitting behind a desk in the center of the room.

Josephine brightened at the sight of her, waving her inside.  Wynn closed the door behind her and approached the desk. 

Josephine treated her with just as much kindness as she did everyone else, and it threw Wynn for a bit of a loop after getting either suspicion or reverence.  Her enthusiasm was also infectious, to the point that it was nearly impossible for Wynn to not go along with Josephine’s suggestions. She had a funny feeling that Josephine wasn’t all that clueless about her affect on people, either.

“Mistress Trevelyan,” she said.  “How may I help you?”

Wynn opened her mouth to reply when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.  She turned to see an elf bent over a table that was out of sight from the doorway, hence why Wynn hadn’t seen her when entering.  She sent an apologetic look to Josephine and jerked her head towards the elf, at which Josephine smiled and nodded in understanding.

Wynn approached the desk, clearing her throat.  “Are you Minaeve?”

Minaeve - it had to be Minaeve - jumped, cursing when her hand banged on the table.  She turned to Wynn, blinking.

“That’s me,” she said.  “What can I do for you? Do you have research materials I should look at?”

“Should I have them?”

Minaeve gave her a rueful grin.  “That’s usually why people come to me.  I study creatures. Demons and such. Some wildlife, too.”

Wynn smiled back.  “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I go out to fight demons.  But I’m just here to introduce myself and get to know you. I’m Wynn - I’m sort of... overseeing the Inquisition’s mages, I guess.”

At once, Minaeve’s friendly demeanor faded, her smile turning into a light frown.

“You’re one of the Heralds, then?”

Wynn wasn’t sure what to make of Minaeve’s reaction, so she kept her tone neutral.  “That’s what they say. Mostly I’d just like to make sure that you’re all being treated fairly here.”

“It’s been good so far,” Minaeve said, her voice just as neutral.  Then she sighed. “Look, I know I’m not exactly being... friendly right now, but considering that you kind of got roped into this because of your mark, I’m guessing that you’re not exactly excited to be here.  I’m just... a little wary of mages who supported the rebellion.”

Wynn raised both eyebrows.

“Now I’m a bit curious,” she said.  “Why assume that I supported the rebellion?”

“Well, for one thing, that’s not a denial,” Minaeve pointed out.  “For another... it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re the only one who didn’t really choose to be here.  I just want it clear that I won’t set any templars on fire.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” Wynn said.  “Though I can think of a few who would deserve it.”

Minaeve’s eyes narrowed.  “That isn’t funny.”

This conversation wasn’t going the way that Wynn had intended.  “Look, I’m not going to start fights with the templars. It would be a waste of time.”

“Okay.  I’ll believe you when you say that much.”  Minaeve folded her arms. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ll accept that you represent us, for now.  But I’m not going to take orders from you. At least, not without Seeker Pentaghast agreeing with you. You haven’t done anything to earn my trust.”

_ And a Seeker of Truth has? _  Wynn wanted to shout it at her, but she pushed down her surge of anger.  She knew all too well that there were plenty of mages who looked down on the rebellion.  She had also, mistakenly, assumed that they were all like Senior Enchanter Lydia or First Enchanter Horatio.  The mages who were afraid of losing their tenuous control over the Circle.

“Alright,” she said.  “I can accept that. May I ask why you’re wary of mages who support the rebellion?”

Minaeve laughed mirthlessly.  “It should be obvious, shouldn’t it?  The templars - they’ve always protected us from people who are wary of magic.  They’ve given us a place to live, and to study - and now a bunch of mages think that fighting and killing them is the right thing to do?  It’s ungrateful. It’s  _ wrong _ .”

“Wrong?”  Wynn spat the word out before she could stop herself.  “How many mages have been turned into Tranquil because the templars misused their power?  How many mages might have died if we hadn’t broken free when we did - Kirkwall changed  _ everything  _ for us, and you want to just - “

She stopped herself, acutely aware of the sad look Minaeve was shooting her.

“I knew it,” she said.  “You are like them.”

Wynn let out a breath at that, before remembering that Josephine was in the room with them and was not-so-subtly watching the two of them from her desk.  She resisted the urge to place her hands on her hips and question Minaeve further; the look on Minaeve’s face was set in stone.

“Then I’ll leave you to your work,” she said quietly.  “And I’ll bring any samples I find in the field.”

She nodded at Josephine again, then left the room, nearly crashing into Cassandra in her haste to get out of the room.  She could still feel Minaeve’s gaze burning into her back, even when facing Cassandra’s glare head on.

“Pentaghast,” she greeted.  She felt a strange sense of relief - she at least knew how to act around Cassandra.  “And you’ve willingly sought me out because...?”

Cassandra scowled.  “We are meeting in the war room.  It seems that we will be traveling away from Haven for a short time.”

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “Color me intrigued. Lead the way, then.”

Leliana was already in the War Room.  She’d probably been the one to tell Cassandra that they were meeting in the first place.  Wynn took up her spot in a far corner of the room, where she had taken to standing during their meetings.  She was content to stay on the periphery and listen while Cassandra and the others argued about their next course of action.  

Wynn’s hands still shook from her encounter with Minaeve; she willed them into stillness after a few deep breaths.  

Cullen and Josephine were the last to arrive.  Josephine stood closest to Wynn, shooting her another small smile, while Cullen moved himself on the opposite side of the room.  Sometimes it seemed to be a competition between him and Cassandra to see who could move further away from her in the war room.

To Wynn’s surprise, Cullen was the first to speak.  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to send you and Trevelyan to the Hinterlands.  It’s where the chaos is the worst, right now. I wish you’d give me more time to secure the area with our troops.”

At the mention of the Hinterlands, Wynn froze.

“We don’t have the time,” Leliana argued.  “Mother Giselle requested to meet the Heralds as soon as possible, and she’s right in the middle of the worst fighting, trying to help the refugees.  If we don’t get to her, we’ll miss our chance to get her input on how to turn the Chantry to our side.”

In other words, she would die.

Josephine stepped forward.  “There are other avenues we could explore, as far as convincing the Chantry of our intentions,” she said.  “Though I admit that using them would likely take longer than contacting Mother Giselle.”

“If we go to the Hinterlands, and make an impact there, it would prove to other factions that we are not merely a joke,” Cassandra said.  “If we are able to put a stop to the warring there... isn’t that where the Thorn Coalition is focusing their efforts?”

Wynn forced herself to breathe.

“That’s what my sources have told me,” Leliana confirmed.  “They’re really digging in this time. It’s strange - they’re usually quick to move on.”

Cassandra folded her arms.  “If anyone is likely to know why, Leliana, it is you.”

Wynn managed to get herself under control, keeping her expression passive while she watched the proceedings.  At the very least, they wouldn’t find her silence unusual. She rarely gave input during these meetings.

Leliana raised her hands in surrender.  “I’ve only been able to gather rumors from the refugees.  The Thorn Coalition doesn’t interact with civilians if they can help it, but there have been instances of them saving refugees from Templars.  Those refugees are saying that the reason the Thorn Coalition is still in the Hinterlands is because DeFleur has gone missing.”

Apparently this was news to everyone at the war table.

“What?” Josephine squawked, eyes wide.  Cullen, by contrast, looked almost eager.

“This could be our chance,” he said.  “We might finally be able to halt their spread of anarchy.”

“It would be a mistake to underestimate them at this point in time,” Leliana warned.  “They know the Hinterlands, now. They’re still able to hold out against the Templars, and have been doing so for an impressively long time, even without DeFleur.  If we’re going to send Cassandra and Wynn to the Hinterlands, we need to tread carefully. We don’t know how they’ll react to the Inquisition moving in.”

“They’re dangerous!” Cullen snapped.  

“It is true,” Josephine said slowly, “that if we were to end the activites of the Thorn Coalition, it would give us better standing with the Chantry and a good amount of the Orlesian nobility.”

Cassandra snorted.  “Are you sure about the nobility?  They were the ones who gave DeFleur that ridiculous code name in the first place.  Almost as if they are  _ fond  _ of them.”

“They were fond of them, at first,” Josephine replied.  “In a... this group is a scandal in itself and the nobility wanted to see where it would lead.  That is, until the Thorn Coalition moved down from the Free Marches into Fereldan and Orlais. Suddenly it seemed like something much less exciting to gossip about.”

Wynn rolled her eyes, already fed up with the back-and-forth.  “If you’re so concerned about the Thorn Coalition’s response to our presence, we could always send in a small group.  Get to the crossroads, meet Mother Giselle, get out. They won’t even have time to react.”

All eyes turned to her, and she met each gaze calmly.  If she managed to play her cards right, then this would be the perfect opportunity.  She was getting antsy from being stuck in Haven, anyway. The sooner they were on the move, the better.

Cassandra frowned.  “You would be eager to avoid conflict with other mages, wouldn’t you?”

Wynn clenched her fists, snarling.  Before she could get in a word, however, Cassandra raised a hand.  “I apologize. That was not intended to be an accusation - it is understandable that you would not want to fight people like you.  Admirable, in fact. However, I hope you understand that it may be necessary.”

Wynn kept scowling, but she unclenched her fists.  “I know that,” she muttered, thinking of Lydia.

“Well...”  Cassandra floundered, and Wynn held back a smirk at her awkwardness.  “I wanted to be sure.”

“It’s a good plan,” Leliana said.  “Simple, but it will accomplish our goal.  How long will the two of your need to prepare?  A day or two?”

“Give me some rations and I’ll ride out right now,” Wynn said.  “I hate sitting around.”

“You ought to set out as soon as possible,” Leliana agreed.  “And you ought to take some backup with you. Might I suggest Solas and Varric?  Since they seem to be your only viable options, at any rate.”

Cassandra was the one who scowled this time, but Wynn just shrugged.  She didn’t mind Solas or Varric, even if they weren’t necessarily the company she’d prefer to be in.  Solas was reasonable and knowledgeable - both useful assets - and Varric was enough of a people person that having him around the refugees would probably make gathering information easier.  

“I’m sending a squad of soldiers with you,” Cullen said.  “You’ll need them to take back the crossroads.”

“Can you promise they won’t make a mess?” Wynn said, sneering.

Cullen, to his credit, didn’t rise to her bait, merely rolling his eyes instead.  Sometimes it was disarming, how quickly these people became used to her disdain. Wynn wasn’t sure she liked that.

“Well then,” she said, nodding to Cassandra.  “I’ll see you at the gates to Haven.”

* * *

 

The fledgling Inquisition didn’t have many mounts to spare, so they ended up doubling up on two tired geldings.  Cassandra had point-blank refused to share with Varric, and Solas had looked more than a little uncomfortable at the suggestion of riding with Cassandra, so Wynn ended up behind Cassandra while Solas and Varric took the other horse.

Cassandra and Wynn barely spoke during the first day of the journey.  The first hour had been especially awkward, with Wynn wishing that she didn’t have to wrap her arms around Cassandra’s waist.  Eventually boredom had gotten to her instead, distracting her from the fact that she had to be in such close physical proximity with someone she was... less than fond of.

Varric and Solas were having what sounded like an amicable conversation.  Lucky them.

They slept in a circle around the embers of a campfire on the first night.  Wynn volunteered to take first watch, still too restless to sleep even though they were finally on the move.  Varric and Cassandra both climbed into their bedrolls with little more than a couple of muttered good nights, but Solas stayed up a bit later, asking her quiet questions about her time in the Circle.

They were mostly academic - requests for information from someone who was accustomed to searching for knowledge.  Wynn kept her answers concise, but elaborated when he asked. 

His last question, however, had been, “And how did you manage to escape Ostwick after the rebellion?”

“I’m not answering that,” Wynn had replied.  She had trouble sleeping after that.

The second day was much the same, with the added drawback that Wynn was sore from riding the previous day (damn horses - she preferred to avoid them when she could).  She’d thought she did a fairly decent job of hiding her stiffness from the rest of the group, but after mounting the horse behind Cassandra, she was handed a waterskin.

“Keep hydrated,” Cassandra ordered quietly.  “It will help with the ache.”

For a few moments, Wynn entertained the idea of upending it over Cassandra’s head.  Cassandra’s concern seemed to be genuine, however, so Wynn gave in, drinking from the extra waterskin more often than Cassandra drank from hers.  She wondered if either Solas or Varric were used to horseback riding, and whether either of them were as miserable as she was.

Her parents hadn’t owned horses.  It was a pursuit that her father considered frivolous, which was rich considering his penchant for collecting rare statuettes of Andraste.  Before she was taken to the Circle, Wynn and her sister used to gape in awe at the horses they saw in the city, wondering what it would be like to ride such a creature.  After the rebellion began, years later, Wynn decided that horses were too noticeable to be of any use.

“Wynn,” Cassandra said, interrupting her thoughts.  “I would prefer it if you did not leave bruises on my hips.”

Wynn realized that her train of thought had caused her to tense up, and loosened her grip.  “My apologies, Pentaghast,” she said. Then, unable to resist, she added, “Bruised hips are usually more pleasant under different circumstances.”

She thought she saw a flush crawling up Cassandra’s neck, but Cassandra’s tone was light as she said, “I am not arguing that.”

Wynn let out a surprised laugh.

The silence that settled on them was more comfortable than it had been.  With the sun warming their backs, Wynn was almost beginning to feel drowsy, until Cassandra asked her, “May I ask what had you so preoccupied?”

Wynn bit off a curt response, instead saying, “I don’t like horses.  I prefer my own two feet.”

“You will likely need to reassess your opinion of them when we go to Val Royeaux.  It is a long journey on foot.”

Wynn wrinkled her nose at the mention of Orlais’ capital, but said nothing further.  Cassandra seemed to sense that she wasn’t particularly interested in conversation, and let her be for the rest of the trip.

By the time dusk rolled over them, they’d arrived at an Inquisition camp in the Hinterlands near the crossroads.  Wynn was fairly certain it had been set up by Leliana’s people. Cassandra moved forward to greet the lead scout, a dwarf woman named Harding, while Wynn headed over to the cliffs.  Their camp was overlooking the crossroads, and she wanted to see what they were dealing with.

At that moment?  There appeared to be nothing.  Wynn couldn’t see any mages or templars - just an occasional refugee, scurrying out from one of the few huts in the area to gather herbs or scavenge for food.  There was no signed of a revered mother, either, so Wynn guessed that Giselle was (wisely) keeping out of sight.

“It looks quiet,” Varric said.  Wynn glanced back, seeing that Solas and Varric had both followed her.  “But I’ll bet that as soon as we head down there, it’ll start raining mages and templars.”

Wynn snorted.  “So long as they’re not  _ literally  _ raining from the sky.  I had enough of that with the demons.”

“I think we can all agree that mages and templars falling from the sky would be rather inconvenient,” Solas said.

“‘Inconvenient’, he says,” Varric said.  “Try ‘terrifying’. It’s been bad enough without them flying through the air.”

Wynn has an urge to laugh, at that.  She decides against it, as much as the thought of the Thorn Coalition flying makes her want to giggle.  

“Heard that DeFleur is missing,” Varric said casually.  

Wynn ruthlessly squashed any reaction.  “That seems to be the rumor going around, yes,” she agreed.  “Though I’m not sure how  _ you  _ heard about it.”

Varric raised his hands.  “Look, Nightingale has her informants, and I have mine.”

“With DeFleur missing, the Thorn Coalition will likely be at a disadvantage,” Solas said, frowning.  “I would imagine that the Inquisition would jump at the chance to eliminate one of the greater threats to the peace.”

“They wanted to,” Wynn admitted.  “Leliana didn’t think it was a good idea.”

Solas shot her a shrewd look.  “I am guessing you shared that sentiment.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not.  You are quite protective of other mages.  Even the ones that, it would seem, are more than capable of fighting back.”

Wynn was aware that Varric was looking back and forth between the two of them, his eyebrow raised.  She folded her arms. 

“You know, Solas,” she said, “I can’t tell if that was a condemnation or admiration.  Care to elaborate?”

“Both, in a sense,” he said.  “The best I can explain it is that you have a perspective that nearly everyone else in the Inquisition lacks.  I find it refreshing. Let us hope it will bring balance to the organization.”

Wynn glanced at Varric.  “Amazing,” she said to him.  “That could still plausibly be an insult.”

Varric shrugged.  “Just pretend that everything he says is a compliment.  Problem solved.”

Solas sighed.

Cassandra called them back over, where they went over their plans for taking the crossroads next to the fire.  Wynn was introduced to Harding, who shot her a small smile but otherwise seemed a bit awed by both her and Cassandra.  Wynn wondered just how many starstruck people they were going to be working with in the Inquisition. She wondered if she’d be able to go around in a disguise, so that no one would look at her twice.

She looked down at the breastplate she’d been fitted with, which had the Inquisition eye emblazoned on it.  That didn’t seem likely.

The soldiers that Cullen was sending were due to arrive at dawn the next morning, and they would strike shortly after.  Wynn had little trouble falling asleep, though she woke up several times to find that she’d tangled herself up in her bedroll, often resulting in her being splayed out practically on top of the tent’s other occupant.  The second time it happened, Cassandra had shoved her off before moving her own bedroll further away.

She woke up a third time to hear quiet murmurs in the camp, and guessed that the soldiers had arrived.  Yawning, she clambered out of the tent and headed over to the stream to splash some water on her face, returning to find Cassandra awake and buckling her armor on.  Wynn began to do the same, moving aside so that Cassandra could exit the tent once she was ready.

Varric and Solas were both out of their tent by the time Wynn was finished putting on her armor.  Varric looked less than happy to be awake at such an hour, though Solas looked the same as he always did.  Wynn shivered as a breeze hit her, and cupped a flame in her hands for a brief moment, letting its warmth seep into her.  Some days, she didn’t know what she would do without her warming spells.

After a brief breakfast, they set out.  The four of them would head into the crossroads first, and then Cullen’s soldiers would follow if there was trouble.  As they approached the crossroads, Wynn removed her staff from the harness, more comfortable having it in her hands than leaving it on her back, even if she didn’t technically need it.

The crossroads appeared much the same as they had the day before: utterly deserted, as though no one was present.  Even so, there was a tension in the air that kept Wynn on edge, and she was tempted to pull the Fade over her, like a cloak, as she stepped out into the open.  The only thing that kept her from doing so was that Cassandra was right beside her; she had a feeling that suddenly disappearing wouldn’t be received well by her.

She sensed it before she saw it - a few feet in front of her, on the ground, was an ice mine.

Wynn thrust out an arm, keeping Cassandra from moving any further.  “Ice mine,” she warned under her breath. 

Cassandra, who had shot her a glare when she first put out her arm, let out a slow breath.  “Can you see any more?”

Wynn shook her head.  “I’d need to get close to one in order to sense it.  But I’d bet that the area is littered with them. Can you dispel them?  I could run through the Fade and set them off, but I’d rather not.”

“I  _ am  _ a Seeker of Truth,” Cassandra pointed out wryly.  She closed her eyes, then raised her hand, fingers spread.  Wynn watched as she slowly clenched her hand into a fist, and then felt the magic on the ground in front of her disperse.  She looked down. The ice mine was no longer visible. 

“Well,” she said, “that’s impressive.”

“I cannot do it unless I know the mine is there,” Cassandra warned.  “If you hadn’t warned me, I would have walked into it.”

Wynn swore.

Solas stepped up next to them.  “The mages who laid these down could be upon us at any moment.  We do not have the time to comb the crossroads for them.”

Wynn tapped her chin as a thought occurred to her.  “No - but maybe we could use them to our advantage.”

“How d’you figure that?” Varric asked.

Wynn looked out over the Crossroads.  She knew that there were Thorn Coalition members on the east side, watching them right now.  She also knew that they wouldn’t attack, whatever Solas said. The same could not be said, however, for the templars who were almost certainly also watching them.

“Well,” she said, “the templars wouldn’t be able to resist one mage flaunting their power, would they?”

Cassandra snorted.  “You do not truly believe they would fall for that, do you?  They obviously know about the mines, or else they would already have come out here.”

“True,” Wynn admitted.  “But would they be able to resist if I was holding a Seeker of Truth hostage?”

Cassandra’s lips thinned.  “Absolutely not.”

“Just an idea.”

“Truth be told,” Solas said, “if we can draw out either side, we will almost certainly draw out the other.”

He was wrong, but Wynn didn’t bother to correct him.  She sighed, gathering her magic and focusing on moving through the Fade.  It felt like it took ages to run over all the mines that she could find, when she did, but the reality was that it barely took a second.  In that second, almost ten mines had been set off, but she still had more to go.

Wynn’s next dash got rid of ten more, and she ended up back next to her companions. 

“I suppose that is one way to do it,” Cassandra said dryly.

As it turned out, 20 of the mines being gone was more than enough for the templars.

* * *

 

“Does nobody else think it’s weird?” Varric asked, an hour later.

They were trudging through the hills south of the crossroads, looking for supply caches that the Thorn Coalition had left behind.  Wynn had a mix of human and demon blood staining her armor, and was in a foul mood after Cassandra had insisted that they stay to help stabilize the Hinterlands.  That hadn’t been a part of the original plan, and the longer they stayed, the more dangerous it became.

“Think what is weird?” Solas asked, indulging Varric after receiving silence from Cassandra and Wynn.

“That the Thorn Coalition never made a peep at the crossroads,” Varric said.  “Those had to be their traps - you’d think they would jump at the chance to take out the templars while the templars were distracted, but no.  They didn’t even show up.”

Wynn glanced behind her in time to see Solas frown.  “I agree, it is bizarre.”

“Bizarre or not,” Cassandra said, “we are fortunate that they did not join the fight.  The battle against the templars was difficult enough, even with Cullen’s reinforcements.”

“Our good luck doesn’t stop me from wondering why, Seeker.”  Wynn glanced back again, this time seeing Varric nearly trip over a tree root.  He didn’t seem to notice. “And to be honest? I’d be less worried if they  _ had  _ attacked.  I mean - the whole thing with DeFleur missing must’ve messed them up pretty bad if they didn’t take advantage.”

“Don’t tell me you are concerned,” Cassandra said.

“Not exactly?  But I’ve learned it’s not smart to mess with people when they’re desperate.”

Wynn was content to stay out of the conversation until, to her surprise, Cassandra caught up to her and asked, “What do you think?”

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “Why ask me? Whatever answer I give likely won’t be the one you want to hear.”

“I am asking you because, of the four of us, you are the most likely to know what they are thinking,” Cassandra replied evenly.  “And also because - in spite of your ridiculous suggestion from earlier - you have had good ideas with regards to strategy.”

The compliment was unexpected, even though it was backhanded.  Wynn turned to look at the path in front of them, mulling over her answer.  For once, honesty seemed to be her best option. 

“I think it was us,” she said.

“Us?”

“Think about it,” Wynn said.  “We’re an unknown third party.  They probably weren’t sure how to deal with us, so they chose not to.  We’re an odd group - a Seeker of Truth, two apostate mages, and a dwarf.  Right now, the Inquisition is a wild card. They’d want to get more information first.”

“I see,” Cassandra said.  “And how long do you think that uncertainty will prevent them from attacking us?  Seeing as how we are appropriating their supplies.”

Wynn shrugged.  “Couldn’t tell you.”

“Wonderful.”

“You asked.”

It took a good few hours of hiking through the hills before they found enough caches.  They wound up setting up camp near a broken tower, sending a signal flare to let the Inquisition forces at the crossroads know.  Once they had the tents raised, Wynn squinted towards the west, where the sun was starting to fall towards the horizon. 

“I’m going to gather some herbs before dark,” she called.

Varric and Solas didn’t seem all that bothered by that statement.  Cassandra on the other hand, frowned. “You should not go alone. This area is still not safe.”

“I won’t go far,” Wynn promised.  “I saw a patch of elfroot in a clearing down by that elf woman’s farmhouse.  I’m just going to grab some and come back.”

Cassandra still didn’t look reassured.  Wynn sighed, then threw her Fade cloak spell over herself.  “There,” she said. “I’ll go like this. Don’t worry about me.”

Cassandra continued to frown, but she finally nodded, crouching down by the kindling and logs they’d gathered for the fire.  Wynn left the campsite, removing the cloak as soon as she was out of sight of her companions.

She didn’t need it.

As though she was merely taking a leisurely stroll, she began to walk in the opposite direction of the farmhouse.  She kept her staff in her harness this time, and paused only when she sensed another mine, stepping neatly around it.  There was... something - the barest whisper of magic -

“Don’t move.”

She sensed the moment when the ice mine was set beneath her feet, and held her breath, not moving a muscle.  A woman appeared from seemingly nowhere in front of her, her dark brown hair braided down her back. She was dressed in a brown cloak and had a chain mail shirt and trousers.  She was holding her staff out in front of her, the tip still glowing from the spell she’d used to cast the mine. 

“You can’t be her,” the woman whispered.  “It’s a trick. She’s dead.”

Wynn let out a long, slow breath, then began to speak slowly, keeping her tone even.  “Your name is Harama. You were taken to the Ostwick Circle when you were seven years old, on your birthday.  You hate celebrating your birthday because of it.”

The woman’s grip on her staff tightened until Wynn thought it would crack from the pressure.

“On the day we escaped from Ostwick,” Wynn continued, “You summoned an icicle that pinned a templar to the wall.  He was about to kill a tranquil named Erick. You hugged Erick afterward, and you cried.”

She felt it the moment the ice mine dissipated, and was nearly knocked backwards when Harama flew at her.

“Maker, it  _ is  _ you!” she sobbed out.  “I can’t believe it - we all thought - “

“I’m alright,” Wynn promised, prompting Harama to pull away, beaming at her.  “A lot has happened. Too much.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Harama said.  “Come on, we’ve got to get you back to base camp - we’ve got to plan our next move.  We stayed in the Hinterlands because Evert told us to - he’s in Val Royeaux right now, trying to figure out what’s going on with the templars who listened to Lord Seeker Lucius.”

“Evert’s in Val Royeaux?”  At Harama’s nod, Wynn swore.  “What in the Fade - he abandoned you all?”

Harama scowled.  “No, he didn’t abandon us.  Neylani’s been doing a great job of leading, but we need  _ you  _ back.  You’re... kind of the decision maker.”

“Alright, alright, slow down,” Wynn said.  “Look, just... let me tell you what’s been going on, and then we’ll talk about what’s next.  I can’t stay long.”

She gave Harama an abridged version of what had happened to her at the conclave, and the following days.  Of getting the mark, helping stabilize the Breach, and becoming the Herald of Andraste. She explained the formation of the Inquisition, what their ultimate goal was, and how she was now a part of its inner circle.

“But you’ll come back to us,” Harama said.  “They can’t do anything without you.”

Wynn sighed, her heart sinking.  This was what she’d been wondering ever since she agreed to be a part of the Inquisition.  

“I’m not going back with you,” she said.  “I can’t. The Breach is a real threat, and if Seeker Pentaghast finds out who I really am... I don’t know if we’d be able to close it.  I have to stay with the Inquisition for now. Plus... if they gain enough influence and traction, enough to put us in danger? Then I can destabilize it from the inside.  I’m pretty good at that.”

“But we  _ need  _ you,” Harama said.  “With Evert gone - “

“I have orders for you,” Wynn said.  “I’m not here just to leave you to doom.  As soon as you can, get a message to Val Royeaux.  Tell Evert to meet me there, soon. He’ll know when; I think the Inquisition is planning for a grand entrance when we go to meet the clerics.  Once you’ve sent the message, get out of the Hinterlands. Tell Neylani that she needs to lay low, for now. Get to the southern part of the Frostbacks.  As long as you don’t aggravate the Avvar, everyone should be fine.”

“But... we’ve worked so hard to gain a foothold here,” Harama said.  “We - this is our first chance to do something big. We’re established now, and - “

“And the templars are attracted to that like flies to honey,” Wynn interrupted.  “No - we’re not a large enough force for that, even now. What happens if the ones in Val Royeaux decide to come here?  We’d be crushed.”

Harama looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment of her mouth moving soundlessly, her shoulders slumped.  “Alright,” she said. “We will do as you say. Just... be careful. Don’t give yourself away. Survive.”

“I survived Lydia and Heppur,” Wynn muttered.  “I can survive the Inquisition.”

Harama laughed at that.  “It’s nice to see that being the ‘Herald of Andraste’ hasn’t gone to your head,” she said.  “Okay then - if you’re going to be a part of this Inquisition without them suspecting you, then you’d better get back to them.”

“I really should.”

Harama smiled, then straightened and bowed her head.  “Good luck to you, DeFleur,” she said. “I get the feeling you’ll need it.”


	5. Setback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a bit of development between Cassandra and Wynn, and lots of arguing in Val Royeaux.

Cassandra shoved her sword through the terror, wincing as its agonized scream hit her ears.  She exchanged a quick nod with Solas, who had been under attack from said terror only a moment before, and turned to see which demons were left.  Varric was finishing off the last wraith, and the despair demon soon caved under Wynn’s relentless stream of fireballs.

“Get ready!” shouted Cassandra, as the rift started to act up once again.  This time, it spat out two despair demons, as well as several more terrors and wraiths.  Cassandra banged her pommel against her shield, drawing the attention of the terrors, while Wynn started sending another stream of fire spells towards one of the despair demons.  

“On your left, Seeker!”

Cassandra dove out of the way in time to avoid an exploding shot from Varric, which blew away most of a terror’s head; she managed to avoid the spray of viscera.  Before she could recover, however, something hit her in the back, sending violent shivers down her spine.

The other despair demon.  

Cassandra whirled, charging towards it, but it spun out of the way, and she found herself surrounded by the remaining terrors.  She brought up her shield to block one of their blows, but another icicle slammed into her side, just barely missing the gap in her armor.  It was enough to throw her off-balance, and one of the terrors clawed at her face, ripping open the skin on her cheek.

Without warning, fire exploded around her, forming a ring that warded away the terrors.  Cassandra whirled to see Wynn leveling her staff in her direction, her face set in concentration, not noticing as the despair demon turned its attention to her.  

“Varric!” Cassandra yelled.  “On Wynn’s right!”

As it turned out, however, she needn’t have bothered - with her free arm, Wynn thrust an open palm towards the despair demon, sending another wave of fire in its direction.  It didn’t finish it off, but it gave Varric enough time to fire enough shots that did the job. The ring of fire around Cassandra had been enough to weaken the terrors, and Solas and Cassandra were able to take care of them once the fire died.  Once that was done, it was a trivial matter to close the rift.

Wynn stormed over to her, looking enraged.  “Do you always do that?” she demanded. “Draw the attention of all of them until they’re overwhelmed?  I can’t always bail you out - fire is hard enough to control without a friendly being in the line of it!”

“I can hardly let more than one of them attack any of the rest of you at a time,” Cassandra replied.  “You are range fighters - if they get close to you - “

Wynn summoned her spirit blade.  “I can handle myself, thank you.”

“Can you really afford to have your attention divided?” Cassandra asked.  “Since fire is so difficult for you to control, apparently.”

Wynn, apparently, didn’t have anything to say to that; she let out a wordless snarl and dismissed her spirit blade with a flick of her wrist.  Cassandra carefully gathered some samples from one of the despair demon corpses, before straightening up and looking towards the farmsteads in the distance.

“That will be one less rift for the farmers to worry about,” she said.  

They’d been in the Hinterlands for nearly four days now - three more days than they were supposed to be there, but it had not taken long for Cassandra to realize that, if the Inquisition was to make an impact, they could not simply abandon the refugees here to the violence between the templars and the mages.  Though that violence was rapidly dwindling; the templars’ numbers were quickly being thinned as they were captured or killed, and they had not seen hide nor hair of the Thorn Coalition since arriving. The only sign of their presence had been the supply caches and an abandoned camp in the Witchwood. 

Wynn had grumbled incessantly during the first day, when Cassandra had decided that they would stay, but after that she’d gone quiet, returning to her normal attitude - good humor with Varric and Solas, and alternating between mocking Cassandra and being angry with her.

Case in point.

“If I didn’t know any better, Tattoos,” Varric said, “I’d say you were worried about our Seeker.”

“If by ‘worried’ you mean, ‘worried she’s going to get the rest of us killed’, then yes.”

Cassandra sighed, but didn’t bother to argue.  After a point in time, arguing with Wynn became pointless.  Better to leave her be for a few hours to cool her head; she seemed to forget about whatever she was angry about easily enough.  Perhaps, not so long ago, Cassandra would have been the one who would be quick to lash out in anger, but anger was of little use out here.  Better to save it for the fight itself than the aftermath.

“We should return to the farms,” she said.  “We can mark the last watchtower location on the way back, speak with Horsemaster Dennet about getting mounts for the trip back to Haven, and then return.  We need to speak to Cullen about getting those towers built.”

“Sounds like a plan, Seeker,” Varric said.  “Especially if it means getting back to Haven.  Where there are baths.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him.  Over the past few days, she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop - Maker knew that he’d taken joy in being as much of a nuisance as possible when they were traveling from the Free Marches.  But everything he said to her was surprisingly neutral. 

Varric didn’t seem to notice her suspicious look, instead opting to just trudge in the direction of the hill where they would place the last marker.  Solas and Wynn were quick to follow, though Wynn paused for a moment to glance back at Cassandra. 

“Come on,” she said.  “We might need you if we run into any hungry bears.”

Remember their unfortunate encounter with two of said bears the previous day, Cassandra muttered, “Maker forbid.”

She jogged a few paces to catch up with Wynn, settling to walk beside her.  To her surprise, Wynn didn’t leave her behind in favor of walking with Solas and Varric.  She did not speak, either, leaving Cassandra with the rare opportunity to open a conversation on her terms.

“If you are concerned about my fighting style,” Cassandra began, “then I will attempt to adapt.”

Wynn sighed, her shoulders slumping.  “No, it’s... obviously it’s worked for you before, or you’d be dead by now.”

“How flattering.”

Wynn’s mouth quirked into a half-smile.  “I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing, from now on.”

Cassandra had the sudden urge to put her hand on Wynn’s shoulder, but refrained.  “If I need help during a fight, I will not hesitate to ask for it. But I know my own strength, and I appreciate your willingness to trust in that.”

“Fair enough,” Wynn said.  “So - back to Haven, then? And then on to Val Royeaux, I suppose.  On horseback.”

“How unfortunate for you,” Cassandra said.  

“Oh, sod off.”

* * *

 

They left the Hinterlands in what Cassandra hoped was better shape than when they had first arrived.  They’d made one last quick stop at the crossroads before getting back on the road to Haven, and she was gratified to see the number of people milling around the area, helping others heal and distributing food and blankets.

It was... very different work, from what she used to do as a Seeker.  But, judging by the results, it was good work. Something she could be proud of.

Perhaps they could build something real from the ashes of the conclave.

The trip back was uneventful, and this time Wynn seemed to get over her soreness more easily.  She still wrinkled her nose right before mounting the horse, though. Cassandra had to wonder what had caused her aversion to horses.

Haven was even busier than before - evidently the number of recruits was swelling.  There was an almost-constant bustle of wagons from people who were coming to Haven to either trade with the Inquisition or sign up.  A small crowd gathered near the gates to point and stare as Cassandra and Wynn stepped through, and a cheer went through the crowd when Wynn suddenly smiled and gave a small wave.  

“I thought it bothered you,” Cassandra muttered to her, once they passed the crowd.

“It does,” Wynn said.  “But it never hurts to bolster morale.  If they really believe that we’re the Heralds of Andraste, then they’ll be happier if we acknowledge them.  Ask Josephine - I’m sure she would agree.”

It made a twisted sort of sense.  As much as Cassandra disliked the idea of misleading people (they had no proof that they were sent by Andraste, tempted as she was to believe it), there was something to be said for encouraging the Inquisition’s members.  

The Chantry was nearly deserted, with most of the Inquisition milling around outside, helping where they could.  Cassandra told Wynn to go on ahead to the war room; she needed to drop off the samples they collected first.

Minaeve shot her a small smile when she  gave her the bag. “Thanks.”

“I hope you wear gloves while studying those.”

“I'm enthusiastic,” Minaeve said, rolling her eyes, “not unsanitary.”

Cassandra headed back to the war room, with Josephine on her heels.  The war meeting didn’t take long - they knew what they had to do, and Leliana and Josephine would be the ones using the list of names that Mother Giselle had provided.  They had about a day to rest and prepare for the journey before they were due to set off for Val Royeaux.

Cassandra’s first order of business was bathing.  Haven’s bathhouse was crowded, and didn’t offer much in the way of privacy, but she managed to ignore the stares and scrub off enough of the grime to feel like a human being again.  After dressing in a clean tunic and trousers, she found a spot near where Cullen was training the troops to clean her armor, scrubbing off the blood - both human and demon.

The movements were methodical, and gave her time to organize her thoughts.  They were going to speak to the clerics in Val Royeaux. Though Cassandra believed in the Maker, she cringed at the thought of trying to win over the remaining revered mothers and clerics.  She had never had much of a knack for persuasion, but she knew that she owed it to the fledgling Inquisition to try.

A shadow fell over her, and she looked up, surprised to see Wynn standing over her.

“Wynn,” she greeted.  “What brings you here?”

Wynn shrugged.  “I was going to ask Cullen if he’d like to spar - I haven’t had a templar to train with in a while - but I saw you, and remember that I should probably clean my armor too.”  She held up a bucket of water and her own armor, which was just as blood-encrusted as Cassandra’s. “Mind if I join you?”

Cassandra stared.  Before they’d left for the Hinterlands, she wouldn’t have believed Wynn would be willing to reach out.  “I suppose not,” she answered. 

Wynn plopped herself down on the ground next to Cassandra, heedless of the thin layer of snow that would start soaking through her trousers.  She now wore a heavy-looking cloak over her shoulders, looking a bit more like a mage than a warrior without the armor. Her staff was nowhere to be seen.

She didn’t seem inclined to speak.  Cassandra went back to scrubbing her own armor, deciding that if Wynn wanted to make conversation, she would do so.

It took a little while before Wynn said anything.  Cassandra only had her breastplate to clean by then.

“So,” Wynn started.  “Val Royeaux. Any idea on what we should say when we get there?”

Ah.  So she was here to talk business.  Cassandra was both relieved and disappointed.

“To be honest,” she answered, “I have no idea.  I usually prefer actions over words, but I doubt that leveling my sword at the nearest cleric and demanding that they focus on the Breach instead of our supposed heresy would go over well.”

Wynn coughed, then laughed.  “Hmm. Probably not. Though it is tempting.”

“Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

Wynn hummed, starting on one of her greaves.  “Nothing concrete. We probably want to be somewhat forceful, at least, to get our point across, but we also don’t want to make ourselves look like the enemy even more than we already have.  I despise the idea of sucking up to clerics, though. So I don’t intend to play nice, whatever our dear ambassador says.”

“We agree on that much,” Cassandra said.  “In all likelihood, we would be seen as weak if we begged the Chantry for help.  But it is as Mother Giselle said - we do not want to be seen as a threat, either.”

“We could go there and just ignore the Chantry folk altogether,” Wynn suggested.  She dragged her fingers through her hair, scowling, before scrubbing a stubborn bit of blood.  “After all, a good amount of ordinary citizens will be there as well. They might be more willing to listen to us than the Chantry.”

Cassandra snorted.  “If we do so, the Chantry might not see us as a threat,” she said, “but they will certainly be insulted.  It isn’t much better.”

“Nothing seems to be,” Wynn said, groaning.  “Maker take politics.”

They lapsed into silence at that, with Cassandra privately agreeing once again.  She finished cleaning her breastplate and paused. She had intended to run through some exercises on the training dummies, but leaving Wynn still cleaning her armor didn’t sit right with her.  She glanced up to find that Wynn’s eyes were on her, a glimmer of amusement in them.

“No need to keep me company, Pentaghast,” she said.  “We’ll figure something out for Val Royeaux. I’m sure you have... Seeker-y things to do.”

Cassandra wasn’t quite able to stop herself from rolling her eyes.  She gathered the pieces of her armor, nodded once at Wynn, and left to stash it in the house where her allotted quarters were.

* * *

 

It had been some time since Cassandra had been to Val Royeaux, but it was as she remembered it.  Tall spires, nobles dressed in ridiculous garments, and a vaguely unpleasant stench. It put her on edge, after being away from the city for so long.  Already she was longing for Haven and the simplicity that she found there. Even the Hinterlands, chaotic as they were, seemed preferable.

Wynn, in spite of her grievances against politics, seemed to be in her element.  She walked with a confident swagger that Cassandra envied. She also appeared oblivious to the terrified looks that many Val Royeaux civilians sent her, not paying them any notice.  In the sunshine, the strange tattoos on her face seemed even darker, making her more noticeable.

They headed towards the market square - Cassandra and Wynn in the lead, and Varric and Solas bringing up the rear.  Varric and Solas had started exchanging stories with one another during their journey, though they could not have been more different.  Varric’s were full of debauchery and moments that she supposed could be considered humorous. Solas, on the other hand, talked about the histories of places he’d visited, his voice both wistful and awed.

Wynn had joined in once.  She told them all about how she’d set her hair on fire, back when she used to keep it long.  She laughed off the part afterwards, about getting a scolding from the First Enchanter, but there had been a change in her eyes and voice when she said it.  Cassandra suspected that it had not been as simple as she’d made it out to be.

Either way, the story had had Varric in stitches.  Even Solas had chuckled quietly.

Varric had tried a few more times to coax another story out of Wynn, but she’d carefully deflected his attempts during the rest of the journey.  Now that they were in Val Royeaux, stories were the last thing on anyone’s mind, and as they ventured into the market, Cassandra straightened her back instinctually as the eyes of a large crowd of nobles turned to her.

There was a raised platform on the far side of the plaza, upon which several Chantry sisters stood.  Cassandra exchanged a glance with Wynn before they both made their way around the column in the center.  She could feel the crowd staring her down, as though trying to dissect her.

Cassandra really,  _ really  _ disliked Val Royeaux.

“So,” said the Chantry woman in the center, raising her voice to be heard above the murmur of the crowd.  A revered mother, like Giselle, if the hat was any indication. “The so-called Heralds of Andraste grace us with their presence.”  She swept her arm out over the crowd. “And you, the faithful, have gathered here today to witness their coming.”

The crowd fell silent.  Most of them were glancing back and forth between Cassandra and Wynn and the Chantry sisters.  Cassandra inclined her head, unflinching.

“But you have been misled,” the mother continued, and Cassandra’s hope plummeted.  “For these are false prophets you see before you. A heretical Seeker of Truth, the one responsible for creating the power-hungry organization known as the Inquisition.  And look! The Maker would not send a mage at her side, not when the mages have turned away from the Maker’s light.”

Cassandra eyed Wynn, expecting her to bristle.  Apart from her hands curling, almost unnoticeably, into fists, she showed no sign that the revered mother’s words bothered her.  In fact, she kept her own expression blank as she stepped forward.

“The revered mother speaks true,” she said smoothly, eliciting gasps from the crowd.  Cassandra held back from glaring, on the off chance that Wynn was going somewhere with that statement.

“That is because she speaks from fear,” Wynn said.  “Fear of change. Fear of doing what’s necessary to save Thedas from the Breach - a calamity the likes of which we have never seen before.  Denying the only organization that has stepped up to solve the problem is not an act of piety, as I’m sure she would paint it. Rather, it is the act of a coward.”

The revered mother’s face contorted in rage.  Cassandra stepped forward before Wynn could do anything more to rile her up.

“My name is Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said.  “Seeker of Truth. I have only ever served the Chantry, and done so faithfully.  But I left the Seekers because they continued to serve the Chantry, and it is the Chantry itself that has strayed from doing the right thing.”

“And what proof do you have of this, Seeker Pentaghast?” the revered mother said, folding her arms.  

“None,” Cassandra admitted, causing the crowd to begin murmuring.  Her heart started thudding in her chest; she knew that she needed to choose her words carefully.  “All I know is that my own faith - in Andraste, in the Maker - dictated that this was the right path.  The Breach is a greater threat to our world than anything else right now. Should we refuse to act, demons will pour into our lands unchecked, in unprecedented numbers.  The Chantry refuses to even try to close it. I cannot, in good conscience, serve an order that believes inaction to be the right thing to do.”

She swept her eyes over the crowd.  “And neither should any of you.”

The murmurs of the crowd had gone quiet at her words, but they started up again, louder this time.  Cassandra let out a slow breath. She’d at least gotten some of the audience members thinking about it.

“The words of a heretic!” the mother cried.  “And how do we know that it was not you and the mage who created this disaster in the first place?  Do you not both bear the mark of some evil magic?”

Cassandra scowled.  “We were  _ not  _ responsible.”

“And we should trust your word?” she barked.  “Perhaps you split open the sky to sow chaos in our lands.  Then the Inquisition comes along and cleans it up nicely. How  _ convenient  _ for you.  But the only word we have against it is that of a failed Seeker of Truth - Seeker no longer.  Now, you are little more than a thug, unworthy of the symbol you wear!”

The words hit Cassandra harder than she would’ve liked to admit.  They were words of doubt that had been chasing each other in her own mind ever since they formed the Inquisition - ever since the Breach, even.  

“You even failed our Divine,” the revered mother continued.  “Even if you are sincere, it was your duty to protect Justinia, and you failed in that too.  How can we put our trust in that?”

It took all of Cassandra’s willpower not to bow her head at those words.  She could not afford to show weakness here. 

“I accept the consequences of my actions,” Cassandra said, more quietly.  “And I deal with them. That is all I can do.”

She expected it to end there - to have to turn tail and report back that they’d failed to garner any support in Val Royeaux.  To her surprise, however, Wynn spoke again.

“That’s more than can be said of the Chantry.”

“How  _ dare  _ \- “

“No,” Wynn snapped.  “How dare you,  _ Revered Mother _ .  How dare you imply that the Chantry is faultless, when the reality is that you are the ones who failed.  The Chantry ignored the signs of the mage-templar war, even though it had been brewing for years. They ignored the abuse that the templars heaped on the mages, and the fact that the templars were blinded by their own power.  They refused to see what was in front of them, and by the time anyone lifted a finger, or even pretended to give a damn, the disaster in Kirkwall had already taken place.”

Wynn jabbed a finger, advancing forward several steps.  The crowd in front of her parted, everyone keeping their distance.  “The Circles needed changing a long time ago, but they went neglected.  They were your responsibility. So, the question remains: what do you have to say about the Chantry’s failure - one which sparked a war that has decimated Thedas?”

“Enough!”

The voice that boomed across the plaza was familiar, and Cassandra felt her insides turn to ice.  She turned in the direction of the voice, in time to see Lord Seeker Lucius (leading a large group of templars, no less) towards the platform where the revered mother stood.  

The revered mother sent Cassandra a triumphant look.  “You see? The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will - “

Lucius nodded to the man on his right, who stepped forward and - before Cassandra could so much as open her mouth - clubbed the revered mother on the head.

The crowd gasped, and someone in the middle of it even screamed.  The revered mother crumpled, and lay unmoving.

Cassandra managed to find her voice, shocked at Lucius’ actions.  “What is the meaning of this?”

She couldn’t see Wynn’s face from where she was, but she saw the way the line of her back stiffened.  Wynn was closer to the platform, and judging by the way her head followed Lucius, she was glaring daggers at him.  Remembering Wynn’s reaction to meeting her, Cassandra wasn’t all that surprised.

“What is the meaning?” Lucius echoed.  “There is no meaning. This petty squabble between your ‘Inquisition’ and the Chantry holds no power.  The mage speaks truth - the Chantry  _ did  _ fail.  The Templars, however, did not, when they broke away to fight the mage rebellion, and we will not come crawling back now.”

“And you came all the way here just to tell us that?” Wynn demanded.

“I came to see about this Inquisition,” Lucius replied.  “And to laugh.”

“Hmm, yes,” Wynn said.  “I’m sure that bashing a revered mother over the head gives off a good impression.”

“You are one to talk about impressions,  _ mage _ , when it was your kind that destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall.”

The crowd was still present - they seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting to see how the confrontation played out.  Cassandra moved to stand next to Wynn, and was able to see the way Wynn’s eyes were almost alight with rage. The sight sent a different kind of chill up her spine - she’d never seen that look on her face before.

“Lord Seeker Lucius,” she said.  “It is the duty of the Seekers to investigate the Templars when they go wrong, but - “

Lucius sneered.  “And what would  _ you  _ know of the Seekers’ duty?”

“Taking command of them is not the way!”

“I am giving the Templars a new purpose in this changed world,” Lucius said.  “You and your feral mage would do best to remember that. Do not speak to me again - I have nothing else to say to you.”

“Defransdim,” hissed Wynn.  The word was unfamiliar to Cassandra, but it was unlikely that it was flattering.  Cassandra eyed Wynn, wondering if she was going to attack Lucius right then and there, but Wynn didn’t move.

Evidently, Lucius did not see it as harmless.

Wynn stiffened up even more, her face going blank as the Smite hit her.  Cassandra realized that she was trembling with the effort of standing, and made an aborted movement to steady her before realizing that Wynn likely didn’t want to show weakness in front of Lucius, or the crowd.

“Consider that a warning, mage,” Lucius said coldly, before he led the Templars away.

The crowd seemed to realize that the show was over, and started to disperse.  Wynn was shaking even harder now, her legs especially trembling with effort. Cassandra moved close enough that Wynn would be able to lean on her without making it obvious how badly the Smite was affecting her.

Solas and Varric approached them.  “Whoa, hey,” Varric said, once he got a good look at her.  “You alright?”

“One of the Templars Smited her,” Cassandra said, “because she said something rude.  I did not recognize the language, but it was fairly obvious.”

“Ah, shit,” Varric muttered.

“Their reflexive reaction to a perceived threat is to... what?  Incapacitate them to the point that they can barely stand?” Solas asked.  “My estimation of them has been lowered - my apologies, Seeker Pentaghast.”

“No need to apologize, Solas,” Cassandra said.  “Quite frankly, it was uncalled for. I am not sure that, even if it had been a more recognizable word, they would not have done so anyway.”

“We need to get her out of here,” Varric said.

“Too late,” Wynn muttered, teeth chattering, as she slid to the ground.

Cassandra knelt next to her.  “Would you rather take a moment and try to recover quickly, or have us carry you out?”

“Just... give me a minute,” Wynn panted.  “I’ll stop feeling like shit in a bit. Damn, but I used to be better at dealing with these.”

Cassandra nodded once, then stood again, shifting that she hid Wynn from view on one side.  Solas and Varric did the same, each blocking Wynn from onlookers. Cassandra noticed that the revered mother appeared to have regained consciousness and was being tended to by a few other brothers and sisters.  She had a shell-shocked look on her face, as though she couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Not that Cassandra blamed her.  She could barely believe it herself.

It wasn’t as long as she’d assumed before Wynn managed to stand up, without any help.  She still looked off-color, and her brow was pinched, but she gave Cassandra a firm nod.

Cassandra turned back to the Chantry mother.  “One moment,” she said, then approached.

The revered mother scowled when she realized that Cassandra was only a few feet away, looking in the other direction.

“I suppose this must seem terribly amusing to you,” she said.

“I find nothing amusing about this,” Cassandra replied.

“Hmph,” the revered mother said.  “Well, I suppose that is something.  First your Inquisition forms, then the Templars return to Val Royeaux only to spit in our faces.  Perhaps you and that mage have a point regarding the failures of the Chantry.”

“They were absolutely correct,” Cassandra said, surprised by how easy it was to say.  “The Chantry did fail. But I do not wish the Chantry destroyed for its failures. It needs to recognize the need for change, and adapt accordingly.  I wish to help it do so, however I can. But I don’t want to completely destroy tradition, either.”

The revered mother stared at her.  “You mean that.”

“I do.”

The revered mother gave a wry chuckle.  “An admirable goal, then, in its way. I only hope that you have the will to carry it out, and that you do not lead people astray.”

“As do I, Revered Mother,” Cassandra said, feeling those words (and all their weight) resonate within her heart.  “As do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Defransdim' - male genitalia in Qunlat. There's an explanation for why Wynn knows a Qunlat swear word, don't worry.


	6. Reservations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Here's another chapter from Wynn's POV. We finally get to meet Evert, and Vivienne is recruited. 
> 
> I tweaked some stuff with the timeline, and with how the invitation to Vivienne's party is given (AKA her real name isn't revealed). 
> 
> Enjoy!

Wynn handed the merchant a silver for an apple, grateful that she’d thought to take whatever money she could off of the templars they’d killed in the Hinterlands.  Everything in Val Royeaux was, of course, overpriced- even food that was cheap elsewhere. She bit into the apple’s flesh, grimacing at the slightly sour taste.

They were supposed to head back to Haven in a few hours.  Wynn had been worried about how she would convince Cassandra to stay in Val Royeaux, but it turned out that she didn’t need to; Varric had requested that time instead, saying that he needed to meet a contact from the Merchants Guild.  “It should only take a few hours at most, Seeker,” he’d said. “We’ll be back on the road before tonight.”

Eventually, Cassandra relented.  She’d muttered something about trading for better gear and then told them to meet back up near the gates to Val Royeaux by sundown.  That gave Wynn about two hours, give or take, to let Evert find her before she was due to leave.

She wondered if, perhaps, Evert hadn’t heard about the Inquisition’s visit.  That seemed unlikely, considering how many people were staring at her as she roamed the city.  That might have been because of the staff she carried on her back, but the gazes of passerby were drawn equally to the Inquisition insignia on her breastplate.  She was fortunate that it wasn’t enough to deter vendors from selling to her, or she’d have gone hungry.

She wandered into Val Royeaux’s public garden, marveling at the sheer scale of it.  Wynn had never been to Val Royeaux - not even before she was taken to the Circle - and a part of her was impressed by the grandeur, as much as she wanted to hold it in contempt.  There were too many clerics around, for one, and everyone turned up their noses at her, but the garden was quieter, and people seemed more awed by the greenery than by her.

There was an empty bench in a secluded corner, surrounded by shrubs that were taller than her, each lined with daisies along the bottom.  Wynn settled onto it, finishing off her apple and tossing the core in the dirt. The tree that grew over the bench shaded the entire area, and she closed her eyes for a moment, grateful for he solitude.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”

Wynn’s eyes snapped open, and she glanced around at the area that she’d thought was deserted.  After seeing no one, she craned her neck to see a Qunari hanging from one of the tree branches, grinning at her.

“Maker, Evert,” she hissed.  “Get down from there, for fuck’s sake.”

Evert shrugged, hopping down from the tree and landing almost cat-like on the ground.  In two large strides he made his way over to sit on the bench next to her.

“I wanted to see the look on your face,” he said, shrugging.  “Also - aren’t you the one who’s always going ‘Rawr, I don’t believe in the Maker anymore, disgruntled brooding noises’.”

Wynn elbowed him in the side.

Evert raised his hands in surrender.  “Alright, alright, point taken. Nice armor, by the way.  Really pious.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Wynn sighed.  “The Inquisition’s ambassador insisted that we ‘keep up appearances’.  That includes being fitted with armor that looks sufficiently terrifying to the masses.”  She eyed his own get-up, which included some spiky pauldrons and a mean-looking scythe sheathed at his side.  “You’re one to talk.”

“This?”  Evert gestured at his side.  “This is my disguise. The most plausible occupation for Qunari in Thedas is mercenary work, so now I’m a mercenary.  Sure, I look scary, but in a place like Val Royeaux, where half the nobles are looking for ways to off their competition, no one gives me a second glance.”

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “What exactly have you been telling your ‘clients’?”

“That I’m already hired by the last guy I talked to.  If I drop their names, it makes the noble I’m talking to all suspicious of that guy.  Sometimes they even pay me for the information. It’s getting quite amusing.”

“It’s also going to get more dangerous the longer you play this game,” Wynn warned.  

“I’m aware,” Evert said.  “Speaking of dangerous, I hear you’re staying with the Inquisition long-term.”

“That’s correct.”

“I can’t believe you ended up being one of the Heralds of Andraste,” Evert said, chuckling wryly.  “It’s like fate or the Maker or something conspired to fuck with us. Though I suppose it’s better than the alternative.”

Wynn flinched at that, realizing suddenly that Evert, like the rest of the Thorn Coalition, had believed her to be dead after the Conclave’s destruction.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Not your fault,” Evert said, shrugging.  “We all planned to get you to the Conclave, remember?  I’m even the one who stole the documents and forged the signatures.  Mostly because your handwriting is crap.”

“Thanks.”

Evert nudged her arm with his elbow and shot her a small smile.  It wasn’t much, but it was enough to know that everything was alright between them.  Wynn smiled back.

“As for Lucius,” he said.  “I came here to find out what he’s up to, although I didn’t have much success.  The Templars were tight-lipped about it, even the ones that I managed to get drunk in a tavern.  I think they’re eager to see what he’s planning, but they also seem to be somewhat afraid of him.”

“The Templars afraid of the Lord Seeker?”  Wynn frowned. “It’s not unusual, since the Seekers are supposed to oversee them, but... if the Templars are nervous about something, that seems like a bad sign.”

“Depends how you look at it,” Evert pointed out.  “Could be good, if what they’re nervous about is us.  Could also be bad, if they’re nervous about something completely different.  Whatever that is, it might be something to watch out for.”

“Them being nervous about us isn’t exactly good news either,” Wynn pointed out.  “If the Seekers and the Templars join forces and come after us, we’ll have to go underground for a good long while.  No way can we fight back against them.”

“Probably,” Evert agreed.  “But I assume that you didn’t ask for this meeting just to ask me about the Lord Seeker.”

“That’s true.”  Wynn shifted slightly, straightening her back.  “I’m ordering you to return to the Thorn Coalition as soon as possible.  They ought to be making their way to the southern part of the Frostbacks by now - I suspect they’ll be expecting you back, soon”

Evert nodded.  “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Wynn said.  “This... thing with the Inquisition - whatever it is - it means that I’m a spy, now.  A spy cannot lead effectively when they’re entrenched in the middle of a group of enemies.  Therefore - “

“Oh, Maker,” Evert groaned.  “You’re gonna make me the responsible one, aren’t you?”

Wynn rolled her eyes.  “Evert, you’re the leader now.  Congrats. Don’t let the power go to your head.”

“You think Neylani will want to fight me for it?” he mused.

“If I didn’t know you so well,” Wynn said, “I’d smack you for not taking this seriously.”

Evert sobered quickly.  “I will take this seriously,” he said quietly.  “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

“I know you won’t,” Wynn told him, giving him a reassuring smile.  “I trust you, Evert. Now get back to everyone else - however capable Neylani might be, they need you.  And hey - having a Qunari as the leader will be good for our reputation as a terrifying force that no one can overcome, yeah?”

“True,” Evert admitted.

She stretched up on her toes to give him a quick hug, one that he returned with bone-crushing effectiveness.  Wynn’s heart was tugged for a moment at how much she would miss him, and everyone else, in the weeks to come, but she knew that this was for the best.  He grinned back at her, but there was just a hint of sadness in it.

“You should probably go,” he said.  “People are gonna ask questions if they see one of the Heralds talking to a Qunari.”

“Hard to argue with that,” Wynn agreed.  “Wait a few minutes after I leave, would you?  It’ll look less like we were talking if you do.”

“Thought I was the boss now,” he teased.  “But sure. I can do that.”

Wynn nodded, then turned and left the little alcove.  The sun was nearly blinding as she emerged from the shade, but she didn’t blink, and she didn’t look back.

* * *

 

As it turned out, they ended up staying at an inn that night instead of getting back on the road.  Cassandra looked disgruntled when they met at the gates, clutching a fancy-looking missive that had her name in looping script.  

“It is an invitation,” she told Wynn, handing it to her.  “Requesting the presence of the Heralds at a party of someone called ‘Madame de Fer’.  I am skeptical that our presence is needed at this party, but I wanted to ask you before we simply left without attending.”

Wynn frowned down at the stiff cardstock.  The name tickled at something in her memory, though she couldn’t for the life of her think of what it was.  Still, it was worth looking into, given what she knew about Orlesian nobility.

“It might be more dangerous than you realize if we don’t attend,” Wynn warned.  “We don’t want to be alienating potential allies this early in the game.”

Cassandra sighed.  “You think we should go, don’t you.”

Wynn handed the invitation back.  “The party is tomorrow night, and the chateau isn’t far from Val Royeaux.  If we spend the night here, we’ll be able to attend. We’ll probably need to buy something decent to wear, though.  Not that I’m an expert on Orlesian fashion, by any means.”

“Very well,” Cassandra said.  “But you are doing the talking this time.”

Wynn tapped her finger on her chin, pretending to consider it.  “I do like talking,” she admitted.

“Hearing the sound of your own voice is more like it,” Cassandra muttered.  “Let us find a place to stay, then. Though Ambassador Montilyet may kill us if we use Inquisition finances for this, especially without her go-ahead.”

“If we come away from this with a new ally,” Wynn replied, “I think Josephine will forgive us.”

The inn they ended up staying at was called the Dancing Maiden - of course it had some flowery, Orlesian name.  Between the four of them, they had enough coin for two rooms with two beds each. Cassandra and Wynn both stashed their belongings, with Wynn quickly changing out of her armor and into a more comfortable tunic, trousers, and cloak.  It was warm in Val Royeaux, but she felt oddly bare without the cloak.

“It is nearly sundown,” Cassandra said.  “I suggest we eat and retire early, if possible.  I cannot speak for you, but I will need rest if we are to go... shopping.”

“Ah yes, shopping,” Wynn replied.  “The worst form of torture in all of Thedas.  You can stand to walk around and try nice clothes on for an hour or two, Cassandra.  We’ll probably get stares, given how barbarius we no doubt look, but we should be fine otherwise.”

Cassandra scowled at her.  Wynn shrugged.

“But, seeing as I have nothing better to do today, I’ll agree to turn in early.”

The Dancing Maiden served a decent stew.  Wynn, Cassandra, and Solas all stayed at a table in the corner while they ate, but Varric had gathered a small crowd of listeners as he told one of his tales.  Wynn finished eating quickly, but wound up in a discussion with Solas on Fade theory.

Wynn had never been particularly interested in the Fade or its workings - that was something that Evert had been more drawn to.  Wynn had focused almost exclusively on combat magic, preferring to learn how to not get beaten to a pulp by the Templars she trained with.  Still, her ability to use the spirit blade required some Fade knowledge, and so she wasn’t completely clueless.

“You mean to tell me you have never travelled to the Fade in your dreams?”  Solas stared. “How - that shouldn’t be possible.”

Wynn shrugged.  “It was one of the first techniques I was taught in the Circle.  You learn meditation that you use before sleeping, and it keeps you from dreaming.  When dreaming did occur in the Circle, it was either for research or for a Harrowing.  Research usually only had one templar present. Harrowings had five.”

Solas looked as though he was doing his utmost not to hit something.  “They teach you to cut yourselves off from the Fade?”

“Yes.”

“And the justification for that?” he said, his words curt.

Wynn opened her mouth to reply, but before she could Cassandra said, “You would allow a child the ability to traverse the Fade?  Opening themselves up to possession? It is barely safe for an adult mage, let alone a child.”

“Ah,” Solas said.  “And so it just goes to show how ignorant every Templar and Circle Mage is when it comes to the Fade.”

Wynn shrugged.  “The Fade was never of much interest to me.  As a child I wanted to learn more about shooting fireballs at things - not that they allowed me to do so without quite a bit of supervision.  So I can say that I was never particularly peeved at that aspect of the Circle. Though there were others.”

Solas raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”

Cassandra said nothing, but narrowed her eyes.

Wynn hesitated.  Up until now, she’d avoided talking about life in the Circle too much.  She had only told the story of when she’d set her hair on fire. This might come a little too close to blowing her cover, but...

 _What the hell,_ she thought.   _They already know I don’t like the Circle._

“The watching,” she said.  “Wherever you were, unless it was in your bedroom, you knew there was a Templar out of the corner of your eye.  There was... a sense - one foot wrong, and they wouldn’t hesitate. They _didn’t_ hesitate.  Sometimes it was just being smited, but sometimes it was worse than that.”

Wynn chuckled without mirth.  “It doesn’t sound so terrible when I say it like that.  Simpler. ‘Just do as you’re told, and nothing will go wrong’.”  She hesitated again, but added, “I made a friend about a year after I was brought to the Circle.  Within a week of us becoming friends, she was called to her Harrowing. She was less than a year older than I.”

Seeing the emptiness in Yara’s eyes - that had been one of the worst moments of Wynn’s life.  She remembered doubling over, sobbing, while Yara stood there, staring.

“I do not understand,” Yara had said.

“That’s okay,” Wynn had managed to say through her sobs.

“How old were you?” Solas asked, bringing Wynn out of the memory.  

“Twelve.”

For the second time, Solas looked like he wanted to hit something.  To Wynn’s surprise, Cassandra did as well. She looked down at her hands, calloused from several years of being on the run and wielding a staff in battle, and wondered what Yara would think of her now, if she was capable of having opinions.

“What was that you said?” she asked quietly, looking back up at Cassandra.  “About protecting children from possession?”

Cassandra opened her mouth, then closed it again.  Wynn let out a breath, her sudden anger draining away, and suddenly felt exhausted.  She stood up, not looking at either of the others at the table.

Before she could storm off to her room, however, a voice stopped her.

“May I join you?”

The figure was hooded, and seemed to have appeared at their table from out of nowhere.  Wynn was on high alert almost immediately, her fingers itching to summon her spirit blade, but then they pulled their hood off to reveal elven features and solemn eyes.  

Wynn relaxed, but only marginally.  Cassandra looked bemused. “Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

Fiona bowed her head.  “I greet you, Heralds of Andraste,” she said.  

“The leader of the mage rebellion?” Solas said.  “... it is an honor.”

Wynn opted to say nothing.  On the one hand, she was surprised - and somewhat happy - that Fiona was reaching out to them.  On the other hand, the two of them had never quite seen eye-to-eye. She had to wonder why Fiona was there, now.

Fiona looked at Wynn.  “I am glad to see you with the Inquisition, Enchanter Trevelyan.  You represent our people well.”

“Yes, well,” Wynn said.  “I do my best. Why are you here, Fiona?”

Fiona let out a barely audible sigh.  “I am here to extend the Inquisition an invitation to Redcliffe.  With the Templars retreating to Therinfal Redoubt, my mages and I are concerned about what their next move will be.  We wish to ally with the Inquisition, if that is a possibility you are open to.”

Wynn’s eyes widened.  She hadn’t thought that Fiona would be so open to the idea so soon after the Inquisition’s formation, but she supposed that it made sense.  Though she didn’t trust Fiona, she felt that the offer was most likely genuine, and she opened her mouth to agree to the meeting.

Before she could, however, Cassandra spoke.

“Thank you,” she said.  “We will consider your invitation.  But for now, I think I would like to get some sleep, if you don’t mind.”

Fiona bowed her head.  “Of course. I must be getting back to Redcliffe as soon as possible, as well.  Thank you for your time.”

She left the inn at a slow pace, drawing her hood back up to hide her features.  No one in the inn seemed to look at her twice.

Wynn spun around to glare at Cassandra.  “I was going to agree.”

“I suspected as much,” Cassandra said, unfazed.  “That is why I spoke before you could. We must still consider the Templars as well - they may also be able to aid us in closing the Breach.”

“There’s no evidence that the Templars will be able to do anything!” Wynn exclaimed.

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.  “I am not having this discussion now, Wynn.  I am going to bed. I suggest that you do, as well.”

Wynn let out a breath, unclenching her fists.  Some of the people in the tavern had turned to stare at her after her outburst, and she knew that if she stuck around she would likely only draw more attention.  She nodded tersely, allowing Cassandra to get up from the table and lead the way back towards the stairs to their room.

That night, she trembled in anger on the bed, until exhaustion kicked in and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Wynn and Cassandra spent the next morning looking for clothes that would be suitable for the party that Madame De Fer was throwing.  Wynn picked her own clothes fairly quickly (a set of dress robes that mages often wore to formal events, such as the college of enchanters’ gatherings) and spent the rest of the morning wracking her brains to figure out who Madame De Fer was.

She had no luck, even by the time Cassandra finally settled on an expensive, dark blue tunic with silver embroidery on the cuffs.  Her trousers, by contrast, were a plain dark gray, but still of fine make.

“I still intend to wear my armor over this,” Cassandra said.  “We are representing the Inquisition, after all.”

Wynn shrugged, turning away to shrug off her cloak and cheaper clothes and pulling on the robes.  The collar was itchy, and Wynn winced, tugging on it. She wore her harness over them, tucking her staff into it; she was wary of going to any Orlesian gathering unarmed.  

Cassandra seemed to have similar thoughts, as she strapped her sword to her side.

They rode out just as the sun was setting, with Cassandra estimating that it would be an hour’s ride to get to Madame De Fer’s estate.  Solas and Varric stayed behind in Val Royeaux; neither of them seemed particularly upset by that. Varric had even clapped Wynn on the shoulder and said, “Good luck.”

It wasn’t very long after sundown that estate loomed before them - a sprawling manor, almost a small palace.  The gates were both lit with torches, illuminating the detailed metal work on them. Cassandra handed one of the guards the invitation, and they were both bowed through.  Their horses were taken by one of the stablehands, who stared at them both just a little too long before leading the horses away.

They were off to a good start.  

At the door to the entrance hall, the doorman jumped to attention.   “Lady Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth, Right Hand of the Divine, and Herald of Andraste,” he cried.  “Accompanying her is Senior Enchanter Wynnedred Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle, and Herald of Andraste.”

A hush fell over the partygoers at their entrance; Wynn inclined her head, annoyed at the crier’s use of her full name.  She had not given that information to anyone in the Inquisition, and unless Leliana had discovered it and sent it to this Madame De Fer ahead of time, then that meant that Madame De Fer knew who she was.

It was a conundrum that could wait.  She moved closer to Cassandra. “Divide and conquer?”

“I would prefer not to,” Cassandra muttered back.  “I do not even know where to start.”

Turns out they didn’t need to know - a pair of nobles was waving them over already, both with gleeful smiles on their faces.  Wynn held back a groan and pasted a smile on her own face, putting a bit more of a swagger into her step as she made her way over.  Cassandra followed, leaning over and whispering, “Wynnedred?”

“If you’d like, Pentaghast,” Wynn hissed, “I _could_ just refer to you as the Hero of Orlais from here on out.”

Cassandra huffed.

The woman was the first to speak when they were close enough.  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “But this is so exciting! To have both of the famed Heralds of Andraste attend this gathering - you must know that everyone in Orlais is talking about you.”

Wynn was fairly certain that her smile looked more like a grimace at that point.  “Well, I’m certain that they’re not all so flattering, madame.”

The noblewoman let out a tinkling laugh.  “Oh, so charming! And a mage, too - of course, it is not so strange, considering Madame De Fer.”

“Do you know,” Wynn said, “I’m not very familiar with our esteemed host.  Perhaps you could tell me a bit more about her - is De Fer her real name?”

The man shook his head.  “Non, it is merely a fond nickname that Celene’s court has given her.  But Lady Ursamine is correct - considering that Madame De Fer is a mage herself, it is no wonder that she is so open to having you as a guest here, rather than the Lady Pentaghast alone.”

That brings the attention of both nobles to Cassandra, who shifts from foot to foot, her spine rigid.  Wynn can’t quite stop her mouth from quirking when Lady Ursamine starts gushing about the Hero of Orlais and all the stories she’s heard.

“Is it true?” she asked.  “You fought off an army of dragons on your own?”

“Not on my own,” Cassandra sighed.  “I had help from other mages.”

“Ah, but surely you were on the front lines,” the nobleman said.  “Your bravery must be still be commended, then, for putting yourself in danger to stop the threat to Divine Beatrix.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.  “I do not like your implication that those mages were cowards, monsieur.”

Wynn raised both eyebrows.  Point to Cassandra.

“Of course they were not,” he backtracked quickly.  “I only meant - “

“You must have been so young,” Ursamine cut in quickly; Wynn made a note to watch out for her in the future, as that deflection was timed a little too well.  “Was it very terrifying?”

“Bah!” came a third voice.  “Terrifying? A Pentaghast cannot call themselves a Pentaghast unless they can face dragons with no fear.”

Another man sauntered over to join them.  Judging by the way wine slopped over the rim of his goblet, he was a bit too inebriated to be considered polite company.  Wynn wondered just how much trouble he intended to cause.

Cassandra did not back down.  “The one who faces down a dragon without fear can only call themselves a fool,” she said.  “That is a good way of getting themselves killed.”

“They can call themselves a coward,” the man replied.  “As could you, and the mage. How dare either of you show your faces here, when you are the ones who likely delivered the killing blow to Justinia in the first place!”

“Marquis!” gasped Ursamine.

“If either of you were women of honor,” he continued, his words slurring together.  “You would answer the charges outside, with swords.”

He laid his hand on the hilt of his blade threateningly.  Wynn took several steps forward until she was nose-to-nose with him, prompting another gasp from Ursamine.

“Do it, and I’ll burn you alive right here,” she said.  “Don’t think I’ll hesitate.”

“The coward’s way.”

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “Considering your so-called charges are false, I have every right to do so, and my honor would remain untarnished.  Not, of course, that I care one wit for such things. I don’t know if your charred corpse would smell very good, however - perhaps we _should_ take this outside.”

Before the Marquis could reply, ice creeped over his skin, and his mouth was frozen shut.  Wynn blinked and took a step back - she hadn’t been the one to cast a spell - when a voice from atop the nearby staircase alerted her to the source of the ice.

“My dear Marquis.  You know my policies on being rude to my guests.”

Wynn knew that voice.

It all fell into place, then - the familiar nickname, Madame De Fer being a mage.  The fact that she knew Wynn’s full name: she’d heard it announced when Wynn spoke at the last conclave of enchanters.  She looked up at the staircase, already knowing who she would see.

“Hmm,” Madame De Fer said, descending the staircase until she was standing between Wynn and the Marquis.  “I’m afraid that threatening to immolate my other guest is not exactly the best of responses either, Enchanter Trevelyan.”

“First Enchanter Vivienne,” Wynn greeted.  “I must admit to some confusion - I was under the impression that you would be with your loyalist mages in some Circle tower.  Not hosting parties.”

“I suppose you would think that,” Vivienne replied.  “It’s ever so good to see you, as always, my dear.”

“Likewise, _darling_ ,” Wynn said, not even bothering to smile anymore.

Vivienne turned back towards the Marquis.  “Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?”

Cassandra, who up until that point had been watching the proceedings with a curious expression on her face, stepped forward.  “The Marquis’ words were merely words. Let us hope that he is wiser next time, but I would ask that you spare his life.”

Vivienne glanced back, smiling.  “A most gracious request, Lady Pentaghast.”  With a wave of her hand, she unfroze the Marquis, who had the presence of mind to give a shaky bow before stumbling towards the door.  Probably so that he could puke his guts out in the courtyard, if Wynn had to guess.

Vivienne turned her attention to them fully, beaming.  “I have so wanted to meet you both - come, let us speak somewhere more private.”

Wynn had to admit that she sounded very convincing.  Vivienne had always been a good liar - it was why she excelled at the Game.  Wynn had been less so, but she’d had to learn eventually, and considering her position within the Inquisition, in spite of being DeFleur, she’d say it paid off.

Vivienne led them up the stairs to a deserted balcony.  It offered a view of the chateau’s gardens, which were beautiful in the moonlight.  Wynn only had a moment to appreciate them before she remembered that they were dealing with Vivienne, and that meant that she had to stay on her toes.

Thankfully, Cassandra had never been one to beat around the bush.  “Why have you called us here, Enchanter?”

“Straight to business, I see,” Vivienne said.  “Very well. Simply put, I am concerned about the threat that this Breach represents to all of Thedas.  I would very much like to aid in closing it as a part of the Inquisition.”

“Absolutely not,” Wynn said.

Cassandra glanced at her.  “You have objections? She is a powerful and respected mage.  You have already taken other steps to strengthen the Inquisition’s numbers and reputation.  Why is this different?”

“Enchanter Trevelyan and I have... shall we say... ideological differences,” Vivienne interjected, before Wynn could answer.  “Though those differences shouldn’t come between us in this time of crisis.”

“And after?” Wynn challenged.  “When the crisis is over. You would have us all thrown back in prisons.”

“Your over-exaggerations tire me,” Vivienne retorted.  “As they always have. My dear, your blind refusal to see that Thedas needs the Circles only goes to show how selfish you and all the other rebel mages are.  Your words at our conclave a year ago only stirred up trouble.”

“And you put your faith in a broken system,” Wynn said.

“Enough,” Cassandra interrupted.  “Ideological differences or not, Enchanter Vivienne is correct - we must put aside such things in order to deal with this crisis.  I cannot claim to know whatever history the two of you might have, but I will tell you this: Vivienne, if you join the Inquisition, you must attempt not to antagonize Wynn.  Wynn - if she agrees, will you agree to try to do the same?”

Wynn stared at Vivienne, who stared right back.  The likelihood of that promise being kept was low, but she knew that Cassandra was right; they couldn’t afford not to accept such a powerful ally.  She would just have to keep an eye on Vivienne, then, and try to deter whatever moves Vivienne would make towards political gain in the meantime.

Vivienne was the first to agree.  “Very well.”

Cassandra looked at Wynn, who nodded.

“Good,” Cassandra said.  “Then, Vivienne, when you are able, you may make your way to Haven to join our efforts.  I think we ought to take our leave, now - I confess I am not fond of parties, and I have a sense that Wynn staying here might be dangerous for the both of you.”

Wynn rolled her eyes, but didn’t dispute that.  

“Then I will see you at Haven,” Vivienne said.  “Thank you for this opportunity, Lady Pentaghast.”  She looked at Wynn, and the line of her brow softened for a brief moment before her expression shifted into something more neutral.  “Enchanter.”

Wynn watched her go, not noticing that Cassandra was trying to get her attention until she was punched in the shoulder.

“Ow,” she muttered, glaring.  

“Come,” Cassandra said.  “We ought to return to Val Royeaux.  I want to be back at Haven as soon as possible.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me,” Wynn replied.  For the first time, as they exited the party and went to ask for their horses, she found herself somewhat comforted by Cassandra’s steady presence.  After an evening of emotional whiplash, she finally felt like she could breathe.

* * *

 

They ended up running into another detour before they could get back to Haven - namely, to figure out the puzzle of Red Jenny.  Wynn had liked Sera immediately upon meeting her, though at the end of the day she still preferred the Thorn Coalition over Sera’s unusual organization.

Cassandra had been less inclined to allow Sera to join.

“Like you said,” Wynn had said.  “We can’t exactly be picky with our allies right now.  Besides - she’s got an ear to the ground. It would be good to have some idea of what normal people think of us.  In the end, we’re doing this for them.”

“See?” Sera asked, jerking a thumb at Wynn.  “She gets it. Sort of.”

Cassandra had sighed.  “Oh, very well.”

Sera opted to travel back to Haven with the four of them, saying that she didn’t need to pack anything other than what she already had with her.  During that time, Solas attempted to get to know her better. Sera had been cautiously responding to his questions, until he started to speak Elvish, at which point Sera had loudly cut him off (with several curses) and moved her horse up to trot next to Cassandra’s.

Solas frowned after her.  “Hmm. I was hoping...”

Wynn said nothing.  That wasn’t something that was her business.

Haven had only grown busier when they finally arrived.  They stayed there for two days this time, before they received an invitation from a mercenary group that was working in the Storm Coast.  It was a three day trip there, which Wynn and Cassandra made easily, this time bringing Sera and (to Wynn’s reluctance) Vivienne.

She’d avoided Vivienne as much as she could after Vivienne had arrived.  Though Vivienne was a formidable fighter, and her Knight Enchanter skills were on par with Wynn’s own, there was still the fact that Wynn couldn’t remain within five feet of her without either throwing a scathing comment or receiving one.  So she kept her distance. Their party was kept split this way, with Cassandra and Vivienne leading, and Wynn and Sera bringing up the rear.

“So,” Sera said, during the second day.  “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Being the Herald of Andraste when you so don’t want to be here.”

At Wynn’s startled look, Sera rolled her eyes.

“What,” she said, “is it some big secret?  It’s obvious you’re not happy about this Inquisition, or your glowy hand, or the fact that everyone keeps trying to eat the mud off your boots.  I just wanna know what that feels like. What would you be doing instead, if you could?”

“My feelings about it aren’t exactly relevant,” Wynn said.  “But I suppose I’d be protecting the people I love, instead.”

Sera frowned.  “Hmm,” she said.  “Dunno if I like the first answer, but I’ll take the second one.  There are worse things.”

Meeting the Iron Bull was pleasant enough.  Finding out that he was an agent of the Ben-Hassrath was less so, and Wynn’s stomach turned at the thought of him ever meeting Evert.  Still, he seemed like a decent fellow (she had to remind herself that he was a spy, so of course he would seem that way), so she agreed with Cassandra when Cassandra suggested they accept him.  She figured that Leliana would be able to handle any complications this might bring.

Another week passed, during which they made their way back to Haven and debated about their next move.  Wynn wanted to meet with the mages in Redcliffe as soon as possible, but Cassandra advocated for going to the Templars at Therinfal Redoubt.  Wynn remembered the troubled look in Fiona’s eyes and the urgency of her words; if she was worried, then there was likely good reason for it, she argued.  

Their arguments went round and round in circles, until one day a messenger burst into the war room, panting, just as it seemed that Wynn and Cassandra were about to butt heads.  

“Heralds!” he gasped out, bringing the meeting to a stop.  Everyone turned their attention to him, making him gulp nervously as he handed a piece of parchment to Leliana.  “Urgent report from the Fallow Mire, sers.”

Leliana unfolded it, frowning, before her eyes widened.  She glanced up at first Cassandra, then Wynn.

“Our decision will have to wait,” she said quietly, and a strange nausea settled into Wynn’s gut.  “It’s a report from our soldiers in the Mire. They’ve captured several mages from the Thorn Coalition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wynn's name - Wynnedred - is kind of a trend in her family. By that I mean that the name of every woman (and a few of the men) in the Trevelyan family has the suffix 'dred'. Just a fun fact.


	7. Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some self-harm.
> 
> This chapter is... not exactly a fun chapter. This is also the chapter where Cassandra starts to realize that something's up.

Cassandra’s braid was hanging over her shoulder, dragged down from the top of her head by the rain.  Her horse, a black stallion, tossed his head nervously, though whether it was from the stench in the air or the general uneasiness of their group was a mystery to her.  

Before her, the Fallow Mire stretched away, seemingly endless.  It was impossible to tell solid ground from bogs; they had to rely on the guide that Leliana had sent with them.  He was an elf who moved soundlessly ahead of the horses. Every so often he would pause and raise a fist, telling them to stop, before he would lead them single-file through a path that only he seemed able to see.  

Cassandra was already soaked through to her smallclothes.  The chill seeped into her bones, in spite of the layers she’d put on beneath her armor.  She was bringing up the rear of the party, with Vivienne directly in front of her, Varric in front of Vivienne, and Wynn following the scout.  Of the four of them, only Wynn seemed to be unbothered by the weather conditions, even though her hair was plastered to her head.

In the distance, a flash of red lanced upwards into the sky - a signal flare.  It was barely visible through the rain and fog, but it was enough to let them know that they were close to the Inquisition camp where the prisoners were being held.  In answer, Wynn raised her staff, sending an identical red light into the sky.

“Another half an hour, at most,” the scout said.  His first words since their journey began. Cassandra took note of his accent - Orlesian.  Strange that he would know the Fallow Mire so well, then.

They had not yet encountered any undead, which Cassandra counted as a blessing, considering the reports.  The plague that had swept through the Mire was something other than the Blight, but it was deadly, and it left the place filled with more undead than live beings.  Every time she looked out over a stretch of water, she imagined that there were bodies beneath the surface, just waiting for a disturbance.

Cassandra grimaced.  It was not a pleasant thought.

True to the scout’s word, it was not long before they could see the camp themselves.  The soldiers there were busy, milling around in preparation for their arrival. Cassandra counted five tents, raised on makeshift wooden platforms in case of flooding.  Several of the soldiers were grouped around a table in the tent with a wider opening, which was likely where they planned strategies. The last thing to come into view through the rain was the cage.

Like the tents, it was built on top of a platform in case of flooding.  There were metal stakes driven into the ground on all sides, high enough that the mages wouldn’t be able to jump over, and close enough that they wouldn’t be able to slip through.  The real deterrent for escape, however, were the two former templars who stood on opposite sides of the cage. Each had both their hands raised, their faces set in concentration.

As reported, there were four mages in the cage.  None were dressed in what Cassandra would have expected of mages - they wore what looked like stolen armor (some of it Templar armor, she noted) and beneath that they wore leathers.  It was a far cry from the robes that she had expected, though she could not deny that it was practical.

Each mage had a pained look on their face, likely from the templars’ interference with their magic.  Two humans, two elves. One of the elves towered over the rest, and their frown was even more stark than their companions’.

The captured mages all turned to look at the newcomers.  Cassandra wasn’t sure what to make of their reaction - wide eyes followed by fervent whispers to one another.  They didn’t whisper for long; one of them made a slashing motion across their throat, and they all fell silent again.  They didn’t take their eyes off of Cassandra’s party, though.

A man dressed in Inquisition armor saluted them.  “Heralds,” he greeted. “As per the instructions sent by Sister Nightingale, we’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

“I presume you are the captain here,” Cassandra said.  “Tell us how you managed this. So far the Thorn Coalition has proven very elusive.”

“Captain Tegen, Herald,” he said, falling into parade rest.  “We surprised these four at their campsite - it was well hidden, but one of our foragers was looking for spindleweed and happened across them.  She came back to inform us, and since we had templars on hand, we were able to ambush them and take them captive. We suspected that the Inquisition would rather question them.”

“That is correct,” Cassandra replied.  “Though now comes the challenging part: we must escort them back to Haven.  That is why we are here.”

Captain Tegen frowned.  “With all due respect, Lady Pentaghast, we have not been attacked thus far.”

“Because you’re too fortified here,” Wynn cut in, before Cassandra could speak.  “If the Thorn Coalition was going to attack, they would wait until you were traveling on the road, when you wouldn’t be able to keep the mages in a cage.  They’d attack during foul weather, slip in, and grab them before you could blink.”

“She speaks true,” Cassandra said.  “We are here to provide the extra support you might need.  Enchanter Trevelyan and Enchanter Vivienne will be able to sense any glyphs that they might place in front of us, and I am here in case my abilities as a Seeker are needed.  Do you have any questions?”

“No, Lady Pentaghast.”

“Very well,” Cassandra said.  “We will take a few hours to rest from our journey here, and then we will set out.  The sooner we are out of the Mire, the better.”

Captain Tegen saluted, then hurried over to the knot of his men that were gathered together by one of the tents.  Beside Cassandra, Wynn yawned and stretched; Cassandra could hear her joints popping.

“If no one is using one of the tents,” Wynn said, “I’m going to take a nap.  Best to get some sleep now, if you ask me - we’re going to need to have stricter watch intervals if we end up camping in the Mire at night.”

She waved at them as she made her way over to the nearest tent, stepping up onto the wooden platform and ducking beneath the tent flap.  Varric followed her, shrugging. Cassandra, who was too keyed up to consider napping, went over to the cage instead, wondering if she might be able to get any information out of the mages.  She noticed that Vivienne was following her.

The mages all watched her approach with a mixture of trepidation and contempt.  One of them - a woman - leaned casually against the stakes on the left side of the cage, narrowing her eyes at Cassandra.  

The tall elf let out a harsh bark of laughter, and for a moment Cassandra blinked at the shimmering lines on their face before realizing they were vallaslin.  

“A Seeker of Truth is one of the Heralds of Andraste,” they said.  “The gods help us all.”

“Well, the Maker don’t help mages,” the other human - a man - said.  “Not unless we’re serving man or whatever it is we were apparently put on this world to do.”

The human woman rolled her eyes.  “DeFleur doesn’t exactly subscribe to all that bullshit.”

“‘S why I followed them, innit?”

“Are you done?” Cassandra asked.

Her frosty tone at least seemed to make them all pause for a moment.  The second elf, another woman, leaned forward, folding her arms.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said.  “Seekers of Truth are a pious lot.”

Separating them would be necessary for interrogation, Cassandra could see.  They were bantering back and forth so quickly that she could barely get a word in edgewise.  She glanced at Vivienne, who was examining her nails, looking bored.

Cassandra sighed, turning away from the mages and ignoring their jeers as she walked away.  It was obvious that she wasn’t going to get anything useful out of the group, no matter how angry she got.  She at least knew something about them, now - the taller elf was Dalish, the two humans were Andrastian (or at least, had grown up Andrastian).  The elf woman was still a bit of a mystery, though.

“I wouldn’t worry my dear,” Vivienne said, making Cassandra jump; she’d forgotten she was there.  “Their tenacity will wear off eventually, especially once they’re separated. The gall some of them had, wearing the armor of Templars...”

Cassandra turned that over in her mind.  “It makes sense, however,” she said. “They have been notorious for raiding Circles across the Free Marches and Ferelden.  They leave behind dead templars, which is no easy feat, but they are a guerrilla force; they likely take their armor and weapons wherever they can get them.  Templar armor is well-made. They were smart enough not to let it go to waste.”

“Yes, there is strategic value,” Vivienne admitted.  “But it is in poor taste.”

“I am not saying it is right,” Cassandra said.  “Merely that it makes sense.”

It struck her, then, that Wynn did the same thing - had done the same thing, almost since Cassandra had met her.  She’d forgone the robes that mages normally wore in favor of armor. Cassandra hadn’t given it much thought before, but now that she could see the similarity, she started to wonder.

Wynn had made several allusions to her past in the Circle, and in nearly all of them she mentioned her proficiency for fighting.  It made some sense, then, that she would be more accustomed to wearing armor; Cassandra found it hard to believe that any officials in the Circle would allow a mage to fight Templars wearing only robes.  

The fact that these mages had thought to wear armor, then... Cassandra wondered if, perhaps, that meant that DeFleur came from a similar background to Wynn.  It would make sense - a mage familiar with the tactics of Templars would be the most qualified to lead a group meant to fight them. She didn’t know if other Circles had a mage that trained the Templars to fight magic users, but it was not a stretch to imagine that at least one did.

She would have to ask Wynn about it.

A couple of hours passed, after which Wynn and Varric emerged from the tent they’d been sleeping in, yawning.  Varric sent Wynn an annoyed look.

“You are the worst person I’ve ever shared a tent with,” he said.

Wynn shrugged.  “I like my space.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to roll around on the floor constantly, and crash into me every other time - honestly, how do you even stay asleep through that?”

“Practice?”

Varric shook his head.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at the exchange.  So, Wynn’s behavior when she shared a tent with Cassandra was the norm.  

Wynn caught her eye and grinned, moving over towards her.  Her hair had dried in the tent, and was now sticking out every which-way, though it was quickly growing damp in the steady drizzle.

“Are we ready to leave?” Wynn asked, sounding far too cheerful.

“Unless you feel that there is something else you need to do here,” Cassandra replied, “then yes.”

“Nothing for me,” Wynn said.

Cassandra nodded, then waved Captain Tegen over and ordered him to prepare the men to march.  Their elven guide appeared at Cassandra’s elbow with barely any warning, almost making her jump out of her skin.  

“They’ll have to follow me single-file,” he said.

“Very well,” Cassandra said.  She relayed those instructions to Captain Tegen, who frowned.

“It’ll be more difficult to guard the mages that way,” he cautioned.  “If we’re attacked from the sides - “

“Then split them up,” Cassandra said.  “Distribute them evenly along the line of soldiers.  Assign each of the former templars to two of them. I will keep a third in check, and Enchanter Trevelyan will guard the fourth.”

Wynn opened her mouth, though whether she intended to argue or agree Cassandra didn’t know.  Before Wynn could say anything, however, Vivienne stepped forward.

“If I may,” she said.  “I’ll guard the fourth.  I know certain spells that are meant to deter mages from doing anything hasty.  Enchanter Trevelyan, while no doubt skilled, is better at fighting Templars than her fellow mages.”

Wynn’s lips thinned, but after a moment she nodded.  “Lady Vivienne no doubt speaks the truth. She would, of course, know how to subdue mages.”

Captain Tegen seemed to take it in stride, agreeing to the new arrangement and shouting orders to his men.  Anyone who didn’t know Wynn would have thought she was paying Vivienne a compliment, but Cassandra (and, she suspected, Vivienne herself) was aware that Wynn’s voice held thinly-veiled contempt.

“Wynn, you will lead, then,” she said.  Wynn nodded, and Cassandra was relieved to see that she turned her attention away from Vivienne.

They retrieved their horses from where they were gathered.  Cassandra steered hers over to the cage, where the stakes were being pulled up so that the mages could slip through.  Two of the mages were led away by the templars towards the growing line of soldiers preparing to depart. Vivienne was already there, and she pulled the elf woman onto her horse with her, nodding at Cassandra before wheeling her horse over to the line.  That left Cassandra with the human woman, who stared at her with narrowed eyes.

“I hope you are not considering running,” Cassandra said.

“I’m definitely considering it,” the woman countered, but she reached her bound hands up and allowed herself to be pulled up.  “I’m not an idiot, though. I know what Seekers are capable of.”

“Then you would be wise to keep that in mind,” Cassandra told her.  The mage was seated in front of her, so that Cassandra’s hands on the reins essentially caged her in.  She could feel the tension radiating off the woman in waves. Not that she could blame her. There had to have been a reason the Thorn Coalition avoided them while they were in the Hinterlands, after all.

As Cassandra was the last to grab one of the mages, she was one of the last to join the line.  They numbered about 25 altogether, and in the distance she could see Wynn following the elf already.  She was impressed by how quickly and efficiently the soldiers had broken down the camp; nothing was left but the wooden platforms that the tents had sat on.

The going was slow, as Cassandra had suspected it would be.  The mage in front of her did not relax even for a moment, sitting with her spine rigid.  Cassandra took note of her appearance as they rode: her brown hair was braided down her back, and though she didn’t wear Templar armor, Cassandra remembered that she had glimpsed a shirt of chainmail beneath her cloak earlier.

The rain stopped just as it began to grow dark.  They were left with ominous clouds hanging over their heads, but at least Cassandra did not have to worry about the rain masking threats.  

Eventually, the lack of light forced them to make camp - this time without the platforms for the tents.  Cassandra, not looking forward to sleeping on the muddy ground, was tempted to take the first watch over the mages (who were now grouped back together), but Wynn volunteered before she could, and Cassandra was reminded that Wynn had managed to get some rest earlier while she had not.

Resigned, Cassandra laid out her bedroll in one of the tents, curling up and falling asleep quickly in spite of the damp.  It felt like only moments later she was being shaken awake by one of the templars, who jerked his thumb towards the entrance flap and gave an apologetic shrug.  Cassandra waved him off; she was glad he’d been willing to overlook her status as one of the Heralds.

Out of the tent, everything was quiet.  The mages were huddled together next to the campfire.  Cassandra moved to stand by them, watching them out of the corner of her eye.  Whenever one of them spoke, it was in a whisper, and Cassandra could not make out what was being said.  She tried not to let it frustrate her.

The regular soldiers had set up their own watch rotation, with six of them patrolling the outskirts of the camp.  They often passed through Cassandra’s line of sight, and every so often one would go into one of the tents to wake one of his fellows.  

The mages eventually curled around each other, huddling in an attempt to get some sleep.  The woman that Cassandra had had with her was the only one still awake, her eyes darting around the camp.  She glanced at Cassandra more than once, but within a couple of hours she was shaking the taller elf awake and laying down her head.

Ah.  So they had set up their own watch rotation.

A fog had rolled over the land by dawn, making it almost impossible to see anything.  Breakfast was eaten in near silence, apart from the murmur of the soldiers occasionally talking to one another; they were likely put off by the fog.  It was unnerving, not being able to see much more than a few feet in front her.

They were back on the metaphorical road while the fog was still present.  Cassandra had decided that getting out of the Mire took priority over waiting out bad weather; she felt like a sitting duck at their camp.  

The mage she rode with was less tense, this time.  Cassandra wondered if it was just exhaustion, or if the mage was starting to get used to her presence.  She surprised herself by hoping that it was the latter.

Before, when Cassandra had pictured the Thorn Coalition, she’d pictured shadowed faces and blood magic rituals.  None of these mages appeared to be blood mages, however, and she had realized that the mage she was guarding was, in fact, quite young.  There was no doubt that these mages were dangerous, but they were also sharp, intelligent, and they clearly cared for one another. That did not seem like typical behavior for any blood mage.

 _They have killed countless templars, in their raids on the Circles,_ Cassandra reminded herself.  She would likely have to harden her heart when the time came for interrogating them.

The fog was just starting to thin out when the line came to an abrupt stop.  Cassandra leaned to her right, trying to see what was going on ahead. The mage shifted in front of her.

The next thing she knew, she was caged by lightning.

The soldiers around her cried out in surprise, trying to get through to her.  One dropped and didn't get back up, body still twitching.

“Do not move!” Cassandra roared, freezing the rest of the soldiers.  She gathered her own power, feeling it rear up almost of its own accord to dispel the magic around her.  More shouts came from ahead; Cassandra guessed that the others guarding the mages were being attacked.

She sensed the moment that the mage with her planned to strike, and reacted.

The mage let out a scream of pain, seizing up before collapsing back against Cassandra.  Two blurred shapes were attacking the soldiers around her, now, and the soldiers were dropping like flies.  Both attackers were carrying staffs.

Cassandra let out a long breath.  She centered herself, entering a state of emptiness.  There was a feeling - like a cold trickle down her spine, before she reached out to the magical presences she could sense and _pulled_.  

She opened her eyes to see both attacking mages on the ground, looking barely strong enough to hold themselves up.  Her moment of triumph was brief, however, as the mage suddenly reared up, having recovered more quickly than Cassandra had anticipated.

“Go!” she shouted.  The two mages stirred, just as more Inquisition soldiers started hurrying over.  Cassandra placed a hand over the woman's mouth, but the mages seemed to get the message, and stumbled into the fog.  Cassandra gritted her teeth. If she gave chase, then her prisoner would likely escape.

Within moments, Cassandra was surrounded by soldiers who asked after her well-being.  She waved aside the questions, more concerned with what had happened.

Wynn appeared beside her horse in a blur of blue, a grim look on her face.

“How many?” Cassandra demanded.

“Twelve dead,” Wynn reported.  “Both Templars, and ten soldiers.  Apart from yours, all the prisoners escaped.  Varric’s hurt, but not badly.”

Cassandra cursed.  “I was a fool,” she said.  “Thinking it would be better to be on the road.  They were waiting for this.”

“They might have attacked regardless of the fog,” Wynn pointed out.  “They got lucky. We got unlucky. It happens. Besides, we didn't lose all of them.”

“Bitch,” hissed the mage.  “You're a traitor to your kind.”

Wynn gave her a bland look.  “Why am I not surprised to hear this coming from one of _you_?”

She turned and went back down the line, presumably to resume leading the group through the Mire.  Cassandra glanced at the bodies near her, but knew that there was no time to bury them. She nudged her horse when the line showed signs of moving once again.  

 _We just need to get to Haven_ , she thought.  Perhaps then, there would be a sign that this was not all in vain.

* * *

 

They were holding the Thorn Coalition mage in the same cell that held Cassandra, after the Conclave’s destruction.  Peering through the bars on the door, it was easy to see that she was anxious, constantly shifting positions from where she sat.  The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of sleepless nights. In spite of her bravado when they were traveling back to Haven, the mage was clearly nervous about her capture.

On one side of Cassandra stood Leliana, who was speaking with Cullen in hushed tones.  On her other side was Wynn, who had her arms folded. Her gaze was faraway, but her face had been twisted into a frown ever since they’d arrived back at Haven.  

“Perhaps you should question her,” Cassandra said.  “She might feel more at-ease in the presence of a mage.”

Wynn snorted.  “You must have missed the part where she called me a bitch and a traitor.”

“Even so -”

“Look,” Wynn cut her off.  “I’m... not an interrogator, alright?  I’m a fighter, but the whole manipulation and intimidation thing, it’s... it’s not really something I specialize in.”  She nodded at Leliana. “I leave that to the professionals.”

Cassandra glanced at Leliana as well, who was still engrossed in her talk with Cullen, before she looked back at Wynn.  Something about Wynn’s shuttered expression tipped her off.

“You do not want to interrogate a fellow mage,” Cassandra guessed.  “Even knowing what she thinks of you.”

Wynn said nothing.

“Sooner or later you will have to accept the duty we carry as members of the Inquisition,” Cassandra told her.  “It will be trying, of that I have no doubt. But the mage in that cell is one of the most dangerous mages in Thedas.  I am surprised that the Thorn Coalition members we have encountered so far are not practitioners of blood magic, but even so, they are still formidable.  And they are still murderers. They are not the ones deserving of your sympathy.”

Wynn’s head snapped up.  Her eyes were blazing, and Cassandra almost took a step back, but she blinked, and Wynn’s anger vanished like it had never been there to begin with.  Instead, she nodded, face blank.

Cassandra decided to ignore whatever it was she had seen in Wynn’s face.  Instead, she put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. That, at least, seemed to make Wynn relax a bit.  Cassandra turned back to Leliana again to see that Leliana had finished her conversation with Cullen.

“I think our prisoner has had long enough to stew,” Leliana said.

“Agreed,” Cassandra said, opening the door.

The mage looked up at their entrance, now sitting cross-legged with her back against the far wall.  Her hands were bound, and Cassandra’s presence was to ensure that the mage would not be able to attempt any surprise attacks with her magic.  Cassandra moved aside, allowing Leliana to take the forefront, while Wynn flanked her other side.

“Why do you care about us?” the mage demanded, before any of them could get a word in edgewise.  “ _Your_ soldiers attacked us.  We just wanted to be left alone!”

Leliana raised an eyebrow.  “The Thorn Coalition’s actions in the past year say otherwise.  Your group has attacked many circles in both the Free Marches and Ferelden.  Many templars were killed in those attacks, and as for the mages and the servants... their fates are unknown.  You’ve never wanted to be ‘left alone’.”

The mage scowled, but had nothing to say in reply to that.

“What is your name?” Leliana asked.

The mage gave no answer.  

Leliana sighed.  “What use could we possibly get out of your name?  I only want to be able to address you by something other than ‘mage’.”

“You first,” the mage shot back.  

“Very well, then.  My name is Leliana.  Though I suppose the Nightingale is my more popular moniker.”

Judging by the way the mage’s eyes widened, she knew who Leliana was.  She visibly swallowed, but continued to hold her head high.

“You and your fellows are responsible for the deaths of twelve of our men,” Leliana continued.  “Do you really expect us to go easy on you?”

“Those deaths aren’t on us,” the woman shot back.  “Like I said: we didn’t have a quarrel with you. They attacked us.  Of course we retaliated. We don’t take things like that lying down.”

Leliana gave her what could only be described as an indulgent smile.  “Of course you don’t. But seeing as how the Inquisition’s original purpose was to put an end to the mage-templar war, you can understand that we cannot just ignore your presence.  Especially when the Thorn Coalition showed no signs of stopping.”

The mage looked at Leliana, disgust on her face.  “Sticking your noses into conflicts that you don’t understand.  What a Chantry thing to do.”

Leliana’s smile turned cold.  Cassandra knew that look - she’d seen it before, on the few occasions when the two had worked together in protecting Justinia’s interests.  It was always the prelude to Leliana deciding to stop playing nice.

“You are a mage,” she began.  “Believe it or not, I have sympathy for those like you.  There are many mages who simply wish to live their lives out in peace, but they can’t because of something beyond their control.  I pity you, and them. But when you start to use that as an excuse for bloodshed, then you lose my sympathy.”

She stood up, and glanced at the others in the cell.  “I would recommend that you leave. Now.”

Wynn stiffened, looking like she was ready to argue.  Leliana fixed her with a frigid gaze, and the two had a silent battle of wills before Wynn bowed her head.  Cassandra noticed that her hands were shaking.

What she did not notice was that the mage’s hands were doing the same.

Wynn, however, glanced back at their prisoner, her eyes widening.  She cried, “Leliana, look _out_ \- “

Leliana dove to the floor just in time to avoid a spike of red aimed at her.  Cassandra whirled, drawing her sword, in time to see that the mage was on her feet.  Her eyes were wide, and the look on her face was one of pure terror, even as the spike of blood shivered and melted.  A messy wound was open on her left wrist, and her teeth were bloodstained.

“I _won’t_ ,” she whispered.  “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t lose myself, you can’t make me - “

“You fool!” Wynn shouted.  Cassandra saw tears in her eyes.  

“I won’t lose me,” the mage shouted back, already crying.  “I won’t be made Tranquil, and I won’t betray DeFleur. You can’t make me!  You can’t!”

Cassandra grimaced, then drew on the power within herself and pulled on the mage’s magic.  The mage slumped to the floor as it drained from her, leaving the bite on her wrist bleeding sluggishly.  She continued sobbing, even with her face half-pressed into the floor of the cell.

Wynn whirled around and stormed out of the cell.  Cassandra exchanged glances with Leliana, who nodded once, and then turned and left.  

Wynn had already left the Chantry dungeon.  Cassandra walked as quickly as she could, hoping that she could catch up to her, but when she emerged from the dungeon there was no sign of Wynn.  Mother Giselle, standing nearby, cleared her throat.

“I believe that Enchanter Trevelyan went out to the village,” she said.

Cassandra nodded her thanks and hurried outside, getting a faceful of snow.  A storm had come down from the mountains, and had been hitting Haven ever since they’d returned from the Fallow Mire.  She grimaced, knowing that she had little chance of finding Wynn in such a storm, but it also meant that Wynn didn’t have very many choices for hiding, so she headed for Wynn’s hut.

There was a time or two when she was convinced she’d gotten lost in the snow before the hut loomed up before her, a welcome sight in spite of its modest size.  She was barely able to hear her own knock over the howling of the wind, but after a few moments the door was thrown open.

Wynn looked utterly murderous, but she stepped aside to let Cassandra through, all the same.  Cassandra struggled with the door for a few moments before she finally managed to shut it properly, and turned to look at the state of Wynn’s lodgings.

A fire was blazing in the fireplace, in stark contrast to weather outside.  It took Cassandra a few moments to realize that there was no kindling in the grate, which led her to conclude that it was a sustained fire spell.  Wynn began to pace in front of her bed, looking like she might lose control of said fire spell at any moment.

Cassandra wasn’t sure where to start.  “She is but one mage,” she tried.

Wynn let out an ugly laugh.  “Not the point, Pentaghast.”

“Then what is the point?”

Wynn stopped pacing to storm over to Cassandra, her face only inches from Cassandra’s own.  Her eyes almost seemed orange in the light from the fire, and for a moment Cassandra had a strange feeling run through her - a sense of wrongness, so strong that she almost felt faint.  It reminded her of when she looked at the Breach.

“The point,” Wynn said, “is that this isn’t what I signed up for.  Interrogation is one thing, but torture - “

“Leliana was _not_ going to torture her,” Cassandra said, jumping to defend her friend.

“Oh, because you know her so well?  You realize that her reputation isn’t founded on purely lies and rumors?”

“I am aware of that,” Cassandra snapped.  “However, I also know that Leliana respects what the Inquisition is trying to do.  She only intended to intimidate the mage, not to actually do any harm to her. But clearly we cannot expect mages from the Thorn Coalition to be harmless any longer, after the way she reacted!”

“She was terrified!”

“And that necessitates blood magic?”

“If you were one of us,” Wynn shot back, “and you were convinced that someone was about to make you Tranquil, and you had no other way to defend yourself - can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t have done the same?”

Cassandra already knew the answer to that.  She suspected that Wynn did, as well.

Wynn shook her head, stepping back.  “Look, I’m not happy about the blood magic, either.  It was the worst possible reaction. I’m... I’ve never wanted to see blood magic performed, and I hated that the first time I saw someone who was willing to use it was someone who was terrified out of their mind.  In truth, _I_ feel like the fool.”

Cassandra blinked, flummoxed.  “You are not responsible for her actions.”

Wynn shot her a rueful grin.  “But I am the mage that’s part of the Inquisition’s leadership.  I should have known how she might react.”

The fire spell was starting to dim slightly, and Cassandra realized that the sense of wrongness was gone.  She shook herself, but decided that it was likely nothing. It wasn’t important at that moment.

“You are not solely responsible for the fate of all mages,” Cassandra said.  “Just as I am not solely responsible for the fate of all Seekers, or Templars.  It took me many years to learn that lesson, and it took many hurts - both physical and mental.  You are doing the best that you can do. That is enough.”

Wynn looked amused, now.  “Is that what you try to tell yourself?”

“Yes,” Cassandra said.  “Often. I admit that it is sometimes not very convincing.”

“It’s not,” Wynn admitted.  “But it sometimes helps to hear it from someone else.”  She looked over at the fireplace, and the fire spell shrunk down to nothing.  She went over to gather some logs from the woodpile she had near the door, and set about making a proper fire.  It was better than the pacing, at the very least.

Wynn lit the wood with a wave of her hand, then turned back to Cassandra, studying her intently.  “You trust Leliana?”

Cassandra nodded.  “With my life.”

“Very well, then,” Wynn said.  “I’ll try to trust her, too.” She paused, suddenly looking awkward.  “And... thank you. You probably had some idea of what kind of mood I’d be in, and you came after me anyway.”

The smile that she gave Cassandra wasn’t very reassuring, however.  It was brittle, in spite of its warmth, and it made Cassandra’s heart ache unexpectedly.  

She took her leave, trekking back to her own hut through the snow.  In spite of Wynn’s reassurances, why did she get the sense that she still didn’t fully understand the conversation they had just had?


	8. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the length of this chapter - it's... almost filler, kind of? Not a whole lot going on. Next chapter, though... just you wait.

Redcliffe was pushed up against Lake Calenhad by the surrounding hills.  Looking down at it from above, Wynn could see why it had appealed to Fiona’s mages: the only way in was a narrow pass protected by a gate, and the inlet that it sat on was almost hidden from the rest of Lake Calenhad.  It was easy to defend, and it would take a lot more templars to overrun it than the number left in the Hinterlands.

She and Vivienne led the way on foot, having dismounted after entering the gate.  Cassandra had admitted that it might put the rebel mages more at ease to see two of their own leading the Inquisition’s party.  Vivienne and Wynn had exchanged looks in a rare moment of camaraderie, both well aware that neither of them were the type to put others at ease, mages or no.

Still, they’d agreed to the suggestion after Josephine backed Cassandra up.  “Regardless of your respective reputations,” she’d said, “they are more likely to trust you than a Seeker of Truth.”  She’d shot Cassandra an apologetic look at that.

Cassandra had said, “That would be why I suggested it, yes.”

She and Varric were doing an admirable job of refusing to speak or even acknowledge each other’s presence.  Wynn still hadn’t managed to get the story behind that out of Cassandra. Varric had been a little more forthcoming, giving her a brief summary of Cassandra’s interrogation of him in Kirkwall, and admitting to some resentment for being dragged all the way to Haven.

Cassandra would only grumble and change the subject.

Their reception in Redcliffe was a bit different than it had been in Val Royeaux.  People had been curious and somewhat awed in Val Royeaux, but it had been mixed with contempt from clerics and nobles alike.  Here, nearly everyone seemed to be thrilled by their presence, hiding behind their hands as they whispered to each other. It wasn’t unlike being in Haven.  

Wynn wasn’t sure she liked it any better.

Though no one carried a staff, there were a few people who stuck out like sore thumbs.  Some of Fiona’s rebel mages, no doubt. They either wore the robes of circle mages, or the non-mages in Redcliffe moved to give them a wide berth (or both).  There was one older man who did a double-take at the sight of them, glancing back and forth between them like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

A senior enchanter, if Wynn had to guess.  Which meant that he would’ve been at the mage conclave.  Which meant that he knew exactly how little their ideologies aligned.

Wynn lifted her chin and put all thoughts of first impressions out of her mind.  Instead, she focused on the time distortion they’d come across outside of Redcliffe.

She’d hated the feeling of being near it.  At one point she passed through it, in what had seemed like mere seconds to her, but had actually been a few minutes.  The time magic had dispersed after she and Cassandra closed the rift into the Fade, but she was still disturbed. She wasn’t the most research-oriented mage around, but she knew enough to know that such things had never occurred.  At least, not in recorded history. She was certain that she would’ve heard about it if it had.

Fiona had come to them asking for help.  That had been the argument that won Cassandra over in the end - Wynn had implied that by not at least meeting with Fiona in Redcliffe, they were ignoring a call for help.  The templars had made no such pleas, and as such, the Inquisition owed them nothing.

At least, not yet.

“Lady Herald.”

Wynn was startled out of her thoughts by the appearance of an Inquisition scout at her side.  He bowed his head before speaking.

“We sent word ahead of your coming,” he said.  “But you should know that no one here was expecting us.”

Wynn raised both eyebrows.

“Why would Fiona keep that a secret?” Cassandra asked.  “There is no reason to.”

“Could be they’re in more trouble than she admitted,” Wynn pointed out.  She looked back on her memories of the mages they’d already seen, and realized that there had been a tension in the lines of their bodies.  Hunched shoulders, shifting eyes. She’d assumed it was because of the cold shoulder they got from Redcliffe’s residents, but now...

“Something’s wrong,” Vivienne said.  “The time magic, and now this? I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Wynn admitted, marking the second time in as many days that she’d agreed with Vivienne.  “Let’s go find Fiona and figure out what’s going on.”

“I believe Fiona can be found at the tavern,” the scout said.  “Just up the hill, to the left. Hard to miss.”

Wynn nodded in thanks, and almost jumped again when the scout melted back into the crowd.  Vivienne was already heading in the direction that the scout had indicated, and Wynn hurried to catch up to her.  Cassandra and Varric weren’t far behind.

The tavern was, indeed, hard to miss.  It was the largest building in Redcliffe proper, apart from the castle.  It was a bit lopsided, as though the owners had seen fit to add on to the building after it had originally been built.  There was no sign, but the sound of laughter and many voices speaking at once drifted from the windows, making it obvious what the building was.

“Here’s hoping that Fiona will be able to tell us more about that time magic,” Vivienne said, opening the door.

The tavern was crowded, filled nearly to bursting.  Wynn was confronted by bodies packed together and the smells of ale and sweat.  Interspersed among the villagers of Redcliffe were more mages, many with scowls on their faces.

Wynn jumped when Cassandra shouted “there” in her ear.  Her eyes followed the direction that Cassandra was pointing to, to see Fiona and several other mages gathered at the back of the tavern, their heads bent together as they spoke.  Wynn nodded, unwilling to try to speak over the din, and began to make her way over. As more and more people noticed her and her group, more people seemed eager to jump out of her way.

That made things easier.

Fiona looked up as they approached.  Surprised touched her features briefly before they smoothed over into a serene expression.  She leaned back over to say one last thing to the other mages before standing and approaching them.

“Heralds,” she said, bowing her head first to Wynn, then Cassandra.  Her eyes narrowed, and her tone was cooler when she added, “First Enchanter.”

“My, my, Fiona,” Vivienne said.  “You look absolutely dreadful.”

“My thanks,” Fiona said dryly.  Wynn marveled at her ability to seemingly speak at a normal level and still be heard.  “And Wynn, I am glad to see you are well. After the Conclave, hearing about what happened at Ostwick... I was worried for your safety.”

Wynn wanted to throw Fiona’s words back at her, remembering her outrage when she learned that Fiona was taking her mages and hiding instead of standing up to the templars.  Instead, she said, “As you can no doubt see, Grand Enchanter, I’m fine.”

Fiona nodded.  “I must confess to some confusion,” she said.  “I am not sure why the Heralds of Andraste would come here.”

Wynn glanced at Vivienne, seeing her own confusion mirrored there.  

“You asked for us to meet with you,” Cassandra said slowly, stepping forward.  “In Val Royeaux. You were quite insistent on it.”

Fiona blinked, looking nonplussed.  “Strange. I have no recollection of this happening.”

Unease trickled down Wynn’s spine.  Something was seriously wrong, if even Fiona was claiming that she wasn’t expecting them.  In fact, Fiona looked as though she’d swallowed a lemon - an expression that Wynn had never seen on her face before.  The mages around her had similar expressions on their faces.

“What happened?” Wynn asked.  

Before Fiona had the chance to answer, another voice interrupted.

“Ah, the Heralds of Andraste!  What an unexpected, but pleasant surprise.”

Wynn pivoted towards the stairwell, which led up to the rooms in the tavern.  Standing there, wearing garb that Wynn had only seen in pictures, were two men.  Mages, judging by the staffs on their backs. Judging by the insignia on his cloak, the elder was a magister.

Tevinter.

The elder bowed his head slightly.  “Gereon Alexius, at your service. This is my son, Felix.”

Felix gave them a nod and a friendly smile, which did absolutely nothing to put Wynn at ease.

“What are you doing here, Tevinter?” Cassandra spat.  

“Such hostility,” Alexius said, tutting.  “But I suppose it is only to be expected, from the famed Seekers of Truth.  If you must know, I am here to aid our brothers and sisters from the South. Fiona has pledged herself and her mages to my service, in exchange for protection from your templars.”

Wynn spun back around to gape at Fiona.  “Are you an idiot?” she hissed.

Fiona, to her credit, did not back down.  “We had little choice,” she argued.

“We would have helped you!”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Alexius said, bringing Wynn’s attention back to him.  “However, as we arrived in Redcliffe before you did, we were perfectly positioned to help the mages here.  I could not, in good conscience, leave without offering aid.”

“And what exactly do you get in return?” Cassandra asked.

“I am always appreciative of having more assistants with my research.”

“I doubt you’ll need hundreds of assistants,” Wynn pointed out.

“The rest will find their places in the Imperium, I assure you,” Alexius said.  “That being said, I understand you came here to recruit them? I find it difficult to believe that an organization known as the Inquisition would do so purely out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“We only wish for their aid in closing the Breach,” Cassandra said.

“A noble cause, I’m sure.”  Alexius smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “Perhaps we could discuss a deal? I may consider allowing some of my mages to aid you in that endeavor before we set off for the Imperium.”

Wynn wanted to tear her hair out.  On the one hand, they needed help from  _ someone  _ to close the Breach.  She hated the idea of that group being the templars.  On the other hand, she didn’t like the idea of just using the rebel mages to close the Breach and then sending them on their way to become what amounted to slaves in the Imperium.  Neither path felt like the right one.

_ You have a group of mages as well _ , she thought, but she shoved that idea away violently.

Cassandra was looking at her, sympathetic.  Wynn couldn’t stand to see that.

“Alright,” she bit out, refusing to look at Cassandra.  “Let’s talk.”

Alexius gestured to a nearby table, seating himself and smiling amiably while Wynn and Cassandra took seats opposite him.  He seemed to prefer to address Wynn rather than Cassandra, which wasn’t all that surprising, considering the status of mages in the Imperium.

Cassandra seemed surprisingly calm about that.

“Now then,” Alexius said.  “What are the terms you are proposing?”

Wynn opened her mouth to begin, but was beaten to it by Cassandra.  “I wish to ask a few questions first.”

Alexius raised an eyebrow, but gestured for her to proceed.

“What business did you have in Thedas that you just so happened to run across Fiona and her mages?”

Alexius chuckled.  “Really now, Seeker, I hardly think that has any bearing on our negotiations.”  At Cassandra’s irate look, he raised both hands. “If you must know, I’m here looking for materials for my research.  There are a multitude of plant species that can only be found in colder climates - such as Ferelden, near the Frostbacks.”

It was a plausible enough excuse, except - 

“And this task was so important that you could not send one of your slaves in your stead?” Cassandra asked.

“Well, they can’t always be expected to know what to look out for.”

“I’m sure,” Cassandra said, with thinly-veiled sarcasm.  “And again, what compelled you to take on Fiona’s mages? Considering that there are hundreds of them, and that many are still studying and probably haven’t undergone their Harrowing yet, it seems a large responsibility to undertake out of the ‘goodness of your heart’.”

Alexius’ smile turned wry.  “You have a very low opinion of my people, don’t you Seeker?”

“Your actions thus far have not yet proven me wrong,” Cassandra said.

The two stared one another down, until Wynn nudged Cassandra.  Cassandra glanced at her and slowly deflated, leaning back in her chair.

“Right now the Inquisition’s interests in the mages are utilitarian,” Wynn said.  “How many would you be willing to lend to us for closing the Breach?”

She could feel the eyes of both Fiona and Vivienne burning into the back of her head, and held back a wince.  She wished that she didn’t have to say that, but she had a hunch that she didn’t want to let Alexius know that she thought everything he was saying was a steaming pile of nug shit.  

Alexius raised both eyebrows.  “Enough to get the job done,” he said, after a long moment.  “But my dear, forgive me if I’m overstepping - you seem to disagree?”

Wynn gave him an empty smile.  “Considering Fiona has already signed the lives of her mages over to you, my hands are effectively tied.  You are a Magister of the Imperium, after all. An attempt to force you to give up the mages might be seen as an act of war, and I think the last thing anyone needs right now is more bloodshed in Thedas.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Alexius said.  “I’m glad you understand.”

“I also agree,” Cassandra said, after a pause.

Before Wynn could say anything else, something heavy fell on top of her.  Ignoring the alarmed gasps around her, she struggled for a moment before the weight was lifted off, and she looked up to see Felix being supported by his suddenly-stricken father.

“My apologies, my lady,” Felix said, smiling weakly.  “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright,” Wynn replied automatically, noticing the sudden change in Alexius.  Gone was the cool, calm negotiator, the man who knew that he’d already won and was unafraid to show it.  In his place was a terrified, weary looking man, who stared at his son as though he thought Felix might vanish on the spot.

“You’re not well,” he said.  “Come, let’s find somewhere for you to lie down.  My apologies, Heralds - we will have to conclude this business at a later date.”

With that, Alexius led Felix towards the stairs to the second floor, leaving Wynn and Cassandra still sitting at the table.  Wynn stood up first, then blinked as something fluttered from her lap to the floor.

She picked up the scrap of paper.  Cassandra, who had also stood, leaned over to read it.

“‘Come to the Chantry’,” she said, “‘you are in danger’.”

* * *

 

Wynn decided, after helping him close a fade rift and discovering that he’d come to warn her about Alexius’ plans, that she liked Dorian.  

Trusted him?  Not quite. But damn it, she liked him.

For all his bravado, he seemed unflinchingly honest when it came down to business.  He’d told them a succinct version of what Alexius had been doing - joining a cult called the Venatori, researching incredibly dangerous time magic, among other things - and had made his condemnation of his former teacher’s actions abundantly clear.  He also made it clear that he was doing this on his own terms, and not because he had any love for southern Thedas. 

It was easy to respect that.  It was easy to respect him, and easier to like him.

In spite of that, it was like a black cloud was hovering over their group as they left.  Even Varric, who would usually fill the silence with some story or another, was unusually subdued as they rode back towards Haven.  Wynn couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what she’d found out about Alexius and the Venatori, and kept wondering what exactly they intended to do with Fiona and the other rebels.  She couldn’t stop the sick feeling in her stomach, or the way her heart pounded.

She didn’t notice that her horse was starting to fall behind until Varric dropped back with her.

“You’re worried about them.”  It wasn’t a question. 

Wynn nodded.  “It’s hard for me to be anything  _ but  _ worried.  At first, when Dorian explained that Alexius used time magic to beat us, I was relieved, because it seemed less like Fiona had done something foolish, until I realized that even in spite of that they were still in danger.”

Varric was quiet for a long moment.  “What would you have done, if you were in her situation?”

Wynn shot him a wry smile.  “The answer to that question is a bit more loaded than you might like.”

“Humor me.”

Another situation where Wynn had to be careful with her words, but she felt that she’d been with the Inquisition long enough that she could be somewhat honest.  Hell, she’d watched one of her own use fucking blood magic (and that thought nearly sent her into another terrified spiral when she remembered the look on Harama’s face).  She’d refrained from attacking everyone and getting Harama out of there - would they still doubt her loyalty after that?

She sighed.  “I wouldn’t have hid in Redcliffe,” she said.  “I wouldn’t have hidden away at all. The Tranquil and children, maybe, but the rest?  I would have gotten them out there, doing something. Helping the other mages still out there, being hunted.  Proving that we aren’t the enemy.”

Varric raised an eyebrow.  “Sounds dangerous,” he said.  “And I’m not sure how many of the rebel mages would’ve agreed.”

He was probably right.  Wynn shrugged at him, and they lapsed into silence.

That night, while they were camping, Wynn was the first on watch.  She tugged her cloak around her, feeling the chill in the evening air more acutely than usual.  Even her warming spells didn’t seem to be making any difference, no matter how many times she’d tried to cast them.

There was a shuffling noise from behind her - one of the tent flaps moving - and then Vivienne sat down next to her, not looking at her and instead staring at the fire as though it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.  Wynn tensed and curled in on herself further, hoping that Vivienne had only gotten up because she wasn’t able to sleep.

“What do you plan to do?” Vivienne asked.

For a moment, Wynn considered acting like a child and pretending that she didn’t know what Vivienne was talking about.  Looking at Vivienne and seeing that her expression was pinched and her eyes were dull with exhaustion, she decided against that plan.  

“Get them away from Alexius,” she answered.  “Somehow. Dorian seems to think that it can be done.”

Vivienne nodded.  “And then?”

“Ask them to help us close the Breach.”

“You only intend to ask?”

Wynn snorted.  “Should I point my staff at them and say ‘close the Breach or else’?”

“Perhaps nothing so overt,” Vivienne said, “but something along those lines.  My dear, what you and Cassandra decide to do about the mages after we rescue them from Alexius will send a message to the rest of Thedas about what the Inquisition prioritizes.  Allowing them to simply work with us as free allies might be a mistake.”

Wynn scowled.  “Clearly you think it’s  _ definitely  _ a mistake.”

“Well, I was trying to be subtle,” Vivienne said wryly.  “But then subtlety has always rather been lost on you, hasn’t it?”

“Fair.”  Wynn paused, wishing that she wasn’t so exhausted that she couldn’t gather her thoughts.  “I think that conscripting the mages into a military organization - because that’s exactly what the Inquisition is - is exactly the sort of thing that we thought Alexius intended to do to them.  And that - we get them out of that situation, only to turn around and do the same? It doesn’t seem right.”

“I would think that we would be capable of better treatment than a Tevinter cult.”

“One can only hope,” Wynn murmured.  “But I’m not holding my breath.”

She refused to look at Vivienne, even though she could tell that Vivienne was studying her intently.  A sudden pang went through her as she found herself years younger, with her knees pulled to her chest and fighting back anger while Vivienne gave her the same stare she gave her now.

She expected another argument, but all Vivienne said was, “Just consider it,” before retreating back to her tent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was curious, yeah, the mage they captured last chapter was Harama.


	9. Warp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a short panic attack at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> In Hushed Whispers time. Enjoy!

Cassandra was flung face-first into a pool of stagnant water, its foul taste flooding her mouth.  She righted herself immediately, relieved to find that she was able to easily stand, and spat the water out.  She took in her surroundings, and froze.

Two Venatori guardsmen were staring at her, shocked looks on their faces.  Cassandra didn’t waste any time, drawing her sword and running the nearest one through before they had the chance to react.  The next put up a bit more of a fight, but he overreached when he tried to lunge at her, and it was easy to get inside his guard and slice through his throat.

Spluttering and coughing noises made her spin around, sword raised.

“Don’t stab me, please,” Dorian said, coughing again.  “My, you certainly don’t waste time, do you?”

Cassandra lowered her sword, but didn’t sheathe it.  “What happened?” she demanded. “Where are we?”

Dorian grimaced at his robes, which were soaked through, before he answered.  “I’ve no idea. If I had to guess, I’d say that we’re in Redcliffe’s dungeon, though why I’m not sure.  The last thing I remember was Alexius throwing that pendant at us and everyone shouting a lot.”

The last thing Cassandra remembered was the stricken look on Wynn’s face and a sickly green glow.  She took a few breaths to calm her racing heartbeat; this was not the time for her to lose her composure.  She was uninjured, which was a positive. Dorian also appeared unharmed, which was... mostly positive. Cassandra had yet to make up her mind about Dorian.

“Hmm.”  Dorian turned to her, his face grim.  “Alright, I have a theory, but you’re not going to like it.”

“That is no surprise.”

“Er... right,” Dorian said.  “Anyway, I believe that the pendant that Alexius used was similar to the the time magic that he’s been meddling with.  My guess is that he intended to erase you and Trevelyan from existence. Considering you and I are here, and Trevelyan is nowhere to be found, it would appear that not only did the pendant not act as intended, but that I was caught in the blast rather than Wynn.”

“From existence?” Cassandra asked.

“Yes - as in, you would never have existed.”

“Why?”

Dorian shrugged.  “Truth be told I’m not sure what his motivations are, in this instance.  Unless you count ‘saving Felix’. Not that that’s really much of an excuse to cause chaos in a foreign country, and I doubt that the king and queen of Ferelden are happy with his actions.”

Cassandra swore.  At least it seemed that they had made the right choice in confronting Alexius first, rather than going to the templars - who knew what kind of trouble he could’ve unleashed, had he gone unchecked.

“Then we need to find him,” she said.  “Make sure that we put a stop to him.”

“I agree,” Dorian replied, “however, there’s one last thing I ah... may have neglected to mention.”

Cassandra glared at him.

“Don’t give me the stink-eye, Cassandra,” he said, raising his hands.  “But you should know that while the pendant failed to remove us from existence, it didn’t do  _ nothing _ .  If I had to guess?  I’d say we’re in the future, though I have no idea how far in the future.”

Cassandra took a moment to absorb that information.  She held back her questions - if they were in the future, then there was no telling what may have happened in their absence.  Her stomach turned as she thought of the fade rifts - without her presence, there was no way that Wynn would have been able to close them.

“We need to find a way out,” Cassandra decided.  “And hopefully there will be something that will tell us how far in the future we are.”

“A shame you killed these chaps so fast,” Dorian said, toeing one of the floating corpses.  “They might’ve answered that question.”

Cassandra snorted, already making her way out of the small room.  “Forgive me if I was not so eager to spare Venatori guards after being transported into the future.”

“That’s fair,” Dorian conceded.  The sloshing noises told her that he was following behind her.

They soon came across a staircase, which (thankfully) led up and out of the water.  Cassandra felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as they emerged into another room, this one with red crystals rearing up out of the stone.  She automatically put an arm out to keep Dorian back, feeling more uneasy by the minute.

“That is red lyrium,” she said.  “It is extremely dangerous. Do not touch it.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Dorian said, sounding slightly unsteady.  Cassandra glanced at him, and saw her own unease reflected on his face.

They kept going, giving the red lyrium a wide berth.  There was more of it the further they got into the dungeons, and Cassandra’s stomach sank lower with each deposit they found.  She remembered seeing it at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and wondered what its presence meant for Redcliffe.

Eventually they came to a fork (she wondered just how extensive the dungeons were), and she chose the left path.  There was a stairwell leading down again, though this time there was no water at the bottom. She shoved open the door at the bottom of the stairs, blinking at the amount of red lyrium in the room.

There was no sound, but Cassandra took a few cautious steps forward anyway, extending her awareness.  She hit upon a magical presence just as she realized that the cell on the far end of the room was occupied, with two red eyes staring out at them from the darkness.

“You again?” came a raspy, barely recognizable voice.  “I don’t need anymore hallucinations today, thank you.”

Cassandra forgot herself, taking a few quick strides forward.  Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cell, and she was able to see Wynn, huddled on the floor.

“Maker’s breath,” Cassandra said.

“Huh,” Wynn replied dully.  “You’ve only said that two other times.”

She looked horrible.  Aside from the glowing red eyes, her skin was mottled with strange brown spots and there were a few places on her arms where tiny red crystals had started to grow.  Her hair was longer, but also thinner, looking as though clumps of it had fallen out, and she was emaciated, her limbs skinnier than Cassandra had ever seen.

Dorian came up behind her, and let out a string of curses in Tevene.  Wynn blinked at him, looking surprised. 

“You’ve never showed up before,” she said.

Cassandra fumbled with the door for a moment before she grew impatient and kicked at it a few times.  The hinge was rusty and it gave after the third kick; it only took a moment for Cassandra to wrench it open and pull Wynn out of the cell.

In the light, Wynn looked even worse.  There were bags beneath her eyes that suggested she didn’t sleep, and she was trembling.  She curled her hands into fists, and then uncurled them, glancing between Cassandra and the now-broken door.  Cassandra saw the mix of exhaustion and madness dancing in her eyes, and suddenly had the urge to snap Alexius’ neck with her bare hands.

“That’s never happened before either,” Wynn finally said, looking at the door.  “Usually you just yell at me.”

Oh, for the love of - 

Cassandra slapped her.  “Get a grip,” she snapped.

Wynn barely reacted, not even putting a hand to her face.  The only sign that she even felt it was a slightly widening of her eyes.  She fixed Cassandra with a piercing stare, one that Cassandra didn’t look away from.  

Wynn swallowed, looking away.  “Alexius said you were dead. Hello, Dorian.”

“Hello,” Dorian said.  He sounded unsteady.

“And you believe what that miser would say?” Cassandra asked.

Wynn shrugged.  “Dunno. Viv and I weren’t sure what he’d done to you.  It was equally likely that you were dead or that something worse had happened.  Either way, we weren’t about to celebrate.”

“Vivienne is here?” Cassandra asked.  Vivienne had accompanied them to Redcliffe Castle, but Cassandra had hoped that at least one of them had made it out.  Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Yes,” Wynn answered.  “She’s somewhere nearby.  She used to be there - “ she pointed at the cell across from hers - “but they moved her a couple of... months ago.  I think. I started to see things after that.”

“The red lyrium,” Cassandra guessed.

Wynn laughed.  It sounded more like a rattle.  “Probably. Or maybe not.”

Cassandra didn’t know what to make of that.  She wasn’t sure that she even wanted to know.

“Well,” Dorian said, clearing his throat.  “Long story short, Cassandra and I traveled forward in time.  From the moment you saw us disappear. Alexius meant to remove you and her from the timeline altogether, but things went a little awry.”

“Not that awry, from what I remember,” Wynn said.  “The Elder One - Alexius’ master - he’s won. Or he might as well have.  Even if I could have tried to contain the Breach (which I couldn’t, as I’ve been a prisoner) - it’s spread.  There’s no closing it now. The Inquisition is all but vanquished. Most people have been sacrificed to summon more demons.”

Cassandra fought down the bile that rose at that; she knew there was no time for her to dwell.  “We need to find Vivienne,” she said. “We need to figure out a way to fix this.”

“Find Vivienne,” Wynn murmured.  “Alright.”

Cassandra was concerned, briefly, but Wynn seemed to have no trouble staying upright.  She led the way, now, and didn’t seem bothered by the red lyrium that was rampant throughout the dungeons.  It only took a few twists and turns before they came upon the room with Vivienne’s cell.

Cassandra had been prepared to kick down the door again, but to her surprise Wynn walked over and simply ripped it off its hinges.

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian swore.

Cassandra had forgotten - as weak as Wynn might have looked right then, red lyrium tended to make people stronger and faster.  She watched, raising an eyebrow in surprise when Wynn pulled Vivienne forward and into a long hug, one where they buried each other’s noses in their shoulders.

“Thank god,” Vivienne said, pulling away, her voice as hoarse as Wynn’s.  “I thought you’d given up, or that you died - “

“I did give up,” Wynn replied.  “I can feel the lyrium in my blood, eating away at me - but I got an unexpected reason to fight again.”  

She pulled away, gesturing at Cassandra and Dorian.  Vivienne took one look at them and choked back a sob.  Cassandra looked away, giving her a moment to compose herself.

“You - “ Vivienne managed to get out, after a moment.  “No. No, this is a trick, it  _ has  _ to be -”

She shoved Wynn away from her, glaring at them all.  Her eyes, like Wynn’s were red, but there were no crystals protruding from her skin, and she looked a bit healthier than Wynn did.  Even so, the way she back into her cell, curling in on herself, said more about her state of mind than her words.

“It’s no trick,” Dorian assured her.  “Cassandra and I moved forward in time.  Do you know how long it’s been?”

Vivienne unfolded herself a little at his words, looking thoughtful (a bit more like herself).  “Forward in time? I suppose it would make sense, considering what Alexius did to get to the mages before us.  As to how long it’s been - I have no idea. They didn’t exactly allow us timepieces in here.”

Wynn let out a wild laugh.  “Yeah - he got the mages, he got  _ all  _ of them -  _ fuck _ !” she suddenly shouted, thrusting her arm out at the wall.  A fireball exploded against it, the room flooding with heat, and she sank to the floor, holding her head in her hands.  She looked up at Cassandra and Dorian. “Why did you come back?” she wailed. “Why? I was able to forget, before!”

“Wynn, stop,” Vivienne commanded, her tone firm.  “Breathe.”

Wynn took several shaky breaths, still with her head in her hands.  Cassandra took a few steps forward, but Vivienne beat her to it, kneeling at Wynn’s side and gently placing a hand on her back.  

“Did they keep trying?” Vivienne murmured to Wynn, still rubbing her hand up and down Wynn’s back.  “After they separated us. Did they keep trying?”

Wynn was quiet for a long moment, her breaths slowing, before she answered, “Yes.”

Vivienne closed her eyes, bowing her head.

“The first month only, though,” Wynn said.  “After that I locked it so far down that even they couldn’t sense it anymore.  They gave up and left me there. Didn’t need food anymore - that’s how far the lyrium had progressed - so...”

“So you were down there,” Vivienne said.  “For a month. Alone.”

“Yes.”

It occurred to Cassandra, as she watched Vivienne’s expression turn to ice, that she likely wasn’t the only one who wanted to snap Alexius’ neck.  

Vivienne stood up, turning to face Dorian.  “Can you reverse it?” she asked. “Whatever Alexius used to send you here - can you reverse it?  Go back in time?”

Dorian frowned, his eyes still on Wynn, who had stood up and looked slightly calmer.  “It’s possible,” he said. “Yes, I think so. At any rate, it seems like our only chance.”

Vivienne nodded.  “Then that’s what we’ll have to do,” she said.  “Alexius is still here, as far as I know - he used to visit Wynn and I, from time to time.  We find him, and we’ll likely be able to find the pendant he used. It’s the only way - trust me when I say that there’s no saving this future.”

* * *

 

They found Fiona in another cell, almost completely consumed by red lyrium.  Dorian had had to duck away and vomit at the sight, but they finally got their answer on how long they’d been absent.  

Cassandra’s mind was still spinning with the information as they made their way out of the dungeons.  They’d been gone an entire year, and the end of the world was all but upon them? Everyone that she’d gathered for the Inquisition was either dead or worse (Wynn and Vivienne were good examples of ‘worse’), the Breach had expanded, and there were demons everywhere.  

Vivienne was right.  They could not allow this to come to pass.

It was like moving through a nightmare - Cassandra half expected to wake up back in Haven, to find that none of this had actually happened.  Then they’d be fighting more guards, and the pain from those fights would remind her that this was very real. Too real for her liking.

They hadn’t found any staffs for Wynn or Vivienne, but the two seemed to be fine without them.  Wynn seemed to have no qualms about ripping apart the guards that she couldn’t burn to death, and Vivienne froze all that came within five feet of her.  Dorian used fire magic as well, though his was more graceful than Wynn’s, in spite of being almost as effective. 

Cassandra - Cassandra just tried to not to feel too much satisfaction every time she stabbed someone.

They were nearly out of the dungeon when a shout came from one of the adjacent rooms.  Cassandra glanced at the others, then hurried to the door and kicked it open.

Inside, hanging from chains, was Leliana, her face twisted into something monstrous.  She and Cassandra made eye contact for a split second, and then Leliana’s legs came up around the neck of her torturer.  The man struggled for a moment, but it wasn’t long before there was a crunch, and he slumped.

Cassandra stood, paralyzed by the sight - it was easy to recognize a human in the process of becoming a darkspawn.  Wynn moved past her, grabbing the knife from the torturer’s grasp and cutting her down. 

Leliana dropped, swaying a moment before steadying herself.  She looked at Wynn first, taking in the red lyrium infection and her appearance, before letting out a wry chuckle.  “So, their experiments never got to you?”

“Not entirely for lack of trying,” Wynn grumbled.  “Not so lucky?”

“I’d think that would be obvious.”

“Your face  _ has  _ seen better days.”

“Maker’s breath,” Dorian swore, having entered the room after Wynn.  “They gave you the Blight?”

Leliana smirked, but it was humorless.  “I did not make it easy for them.”

“Wonderful,” Dorian mumbled.  “Yet another reason why this is quickly turning into the worst day of my life.”

“Rather insensitive of you, darling,” Vivienne said.

“I suppose,” Dorian conceded.  “Apologies, spymaster.”

“Leliana,” she corrected.  “I’m not a spymaster anymore.  There’s nothing left for me to be a spymaster of.”

“We had heard as much,” Cassandra said.  She took a few steps forward. Leliana was more important that any reservations she had about the Blight.  “Are you...?”

Leliana looked away.  “I’ll be fine once Alexius is dead.”

“Get in line,” Vivienne muttered.

“Okay,” Dorian cut in quickly.  “I’m sure there will be plenty of time for that later, but for now we need to find that pendant, yes?  Cassandra and I will go back to the past so that none of this horridness ever happens, and we all live happily ever after, and hopefully none of you remember this timeline.”

Leliana, who was examining the knife that the torturer had been wielding, looking up to glare at him.  “Just erase it? As though none of this ever happened?”

Dorian shrugged.  “That is the goal, yes.”

Leliana scoffed.  “But it did happen,” she said.  “It happened. The Elder One came at the Inquisition with an army of demons.  Then Empress Celene was assassinated, before anyone could even blink, and the Inquisition had to hide out in the Frostbacks.  I doubt any are left who could still fight. Wynn’s Mark has all been burned out of her because of the experiments they did on her - “

“What?” Cassandra interrupted, looking at Wynn.

Wynn shrugged, raising her hand.  There was a weak flicker of green, then nothing.  

“This can’t just be erased,” Leliana said, sounding hollow.  “Nothing’s ever going to be the same.”

“We knew that after the Breach happened,” Cassandra pointed out, turning Leliana’s attention back to her.  “This is our only option. Pray to the Maker that you do not remember this, Leliana.”

Leliana laughed.  “What Maker?” she asked, and then slipped out of the room.

* * *

 

When they emerged outside, Cassandra almost dropped to her knees.

She’d been told what to expect.  She knew that the Breach had gone out of control, and that there were demons everywhere.  That knowledge still did nothing to prepare her for it.

If the Breach had nauseated her before it spread, it nearly made her vomit then and there.  She had to keep her eyes on the ground, lest she feel bile rising in her throat. The air felt heavy on her shoulders, oppressive in a way that it hadn’t been even outside of the castle.  Her mark twinged in pain,, and everything around her appeared hazy, as though it were hot outside. 

It was freezing, though.

They stumbled upon a small group of Venatori, sacrificing more non-mages (their own followers, it seemed) in order to summon more demons.  Before any of the rest of them could do anything, Wynn threw herself at the Venatori, a scream erupting from her. Cassandra drew her sword, prepared to fight, but she barely took two steps forward before all but one of the Venatori mages were dead, leaving behind nothing but charred corpses.

The last one was cowering before Wynn.

“We had to!” she was shouting.  “We were under orders - we had to - “

“You think I give a damn?” Wynn hissed.

Vivienne moved up beside her, placing a hand on her arm.  “My dear, if I may have this one...?”

Wynn paused, her face contorted, and for a moment Cassandra felt that sense of wrong well up in her again, but then Wynn stepped back.  “Be my guest.”

Vivienne’s expression turned colder than Cassandra had ever seen it.  It was the only warning that the Venatori mage had before ice started creeping up her limbs.  Cassandra thought she heard sobs from behind the Venatori’s mask, but they were soon choked off as she was frozen over completely.  Vivienne stared at the frozen woman for a few moments before she raised her hand, spirit blade forming, and brought it down on the mage’s head, shattering her.

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” Dorian murmured.

“We do not know what they went through,” Cassandra said, but even she had to admit that their three companions were unnerving her.  Leliana moved with single-minded, murderous focus, her movements tight and controlled, making Cassandra think that she did not have the Blight as in-hand as she let on.  Wynn, by contrast, seemed to constantly be on the verge of losing it, only able to find relief by venting her magic on the nearest group of enemies.

And Vivienne - Vivienne had never before put so much focus on making her enemies suffer, rather than simply defeating them.

“It hurts,” Wynn was whimpering, as Cassandra, Dorian and Leliana joined them.  

“I know, darling,” Vivienne soothed.  “Soon. It’ll be over soon.”

They moved on.

Through the courtyard, where they closed two more fade rifts.  Somehow, Cassandra’s presence seemed to be enough for Wynn’s mark to react, though Wynn cried out upon it activating.  When each of the fade rifts snapped shut, Cassandra felt a tiny bit of the oppressiveness lift - though it was barely noticeable.

Before long, they stood at the entrance to the receiving room, where Alexius was likely waiting for them.

“Should we prepare for a fight?” asked Dorian.

“I doubt it,” Leliana said.  “Alexius has... lost his spark, shall we say.  He’s unlikely to resist.”

Dorian looked troubled by that.  Cassandra frowned, but said nothing.

“Then let us go,” she said.

Leliana was correct.  The receiving room was darkened, the fires that had greeted them a year ago now put out.  In the back of the room, on a chair that was hidden in the shadows, was Alexius, staring at them with dull eyes as they entered.  Not as dull as those of his son’s, however, who was somehow standing next to him. Cassandra couldn’t keep herself from shuddering at the sight.

She couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

“Alexius,” Dorian greeted.

“Dorian,” Alexius replied.  “Then it is true. I have failed.  Again.”

Leliana moved as if to approach him, but Cassandra raised her arm, making her pause.  She sent Leliana a warning look, which got a scorching glare in response, but Leliana still backed down after a silent staredown.

“What was it all for?” Dorian asked him.  “Why destroy the entire world?”

Cassandra had a feeling she already knew the answer.  She glanced at Felix, but had to look away again.

“He’s not even alive anymore,” Dorian said, more gently.  “Not in the way that counts, at any rate.”

Alexius snorted.  “Neither are three of you,” he pointed out, his eyes travelling over Leliana, Wynn, and Vivienne.  “Seeker,” he said to Cassandra. “Ironic, that the last two standing are a mage and a Seeker of Truth.  Enemies, by nature.”

“I’m still on my feet, you arse,” Wynn said.

Alexius gave her a weak smirk.  “How much of you is left, Enchanter Trevelyan?  Or you, Nightingale?”

Leliana wasn’t looking at him.  She was staring at Felix, who didn’t seem to notice anything that was happening around him.

“You turned me,” she said, finally, “into a darkspawn... for  _ that _ .”

Cassandra saw her tense, knew what she intended to do, but she wasn’t fast enough to stop her.  Leliana broke into a sprint and leapt for Felix. Alexius cried out, coming alive at last as he realized what Leliana intended to do.  Cassandra could see the beginnings of a spell forming in his hand, and gathered her own power, preparing to smite him - 

There was a flash of blue, and a spirit blade was sticking out of his chest.

Alexius let out a choking sound; at the same time, Felix dropped to the ground, dead.  Leliana stood over his body, her face expressionless. Wynn was crouched on the floor next to Dorian, her hands over her ears again.  

Vivienne dissipated her spirit blade, letting Alexius crumble.

She looked at Cassandra and Dorian.  “We have work to do, yes?”

Dorian’s jaw had been hanging down; at her words, he snapped it shut, hurrying over to Alexius’ body.  To his credit, he seemed remarkably composed as he searched Alexius’ clothes, letting out an “Aha!” as he pulled out the pendant.  

“Give me about an hour,” he said, taking it over to a the table next to the fireplace.  “I’ll have this up before -”

“An hour?” Leliana interrupted.  “That’s impossible! You must go now!”

Dorian let out a long sigh, rolling his eyes.  “Very well, then I will need some assistance with this - “

“I’ll help,” Vivienne said, hurrying over.  

“There will be demons coming,” Leliana muttered, glancing at the door.  “I can hold them off for as long as I can - Trevelyan?”

Wynn didn’t answer, her eyes wild as she stared at the ground.  Cassandra approached her carefully, holding her power close to her, prepared to use it if possible.  With demons approaching, she wouldn’t be surprised if Wynn was vulnerable to possession at that moment.

“Can’t,” Wynn was whispering.  “They’re close, I can tell - I could rip them apart - “

“Wynn,” Cassandra cut in.  She crouched down next to her.  “I...”

It hit her, in that moment - the enormity of what she was about to ask.  She had never liked the idea of using the mages as an army, even though it had been done several times in the past.  She knew that sending anyone out to fight the demons that were surely coming for them would be suicide. 

Wynn was going to die, if she asked her to do this.

Without warning Wynn grabbed her upper arm, looking up at her.  

“Have to tell you,” she gasped out, “before I go - “

“Anything,” Cassandra said, suddenly afraid.

Wynn gave her a delirious smile.  “Just remember that flowers can have thorns, alright?”

Before Cassandra had the chance to ask what she meant, Wynn turned and all but flung herself at the doors of the castle.  She pushed through them, letting them slam shut behind her. Leliana took her place in front of them, knives in her hands as she prepared to fight off whatever was coming.

Dorian and Vivienne were talking so fast that Cassandra could barely keep up.  The inability to do anything to help made her start pacing. She couldn’t comfort Leliana, who wouldn’t want it.  She couldn’t go outside and help Wynn, as it would surely mean death. She hated this she hated this she  _ hated it _ \- 

An explosion rocked the building, nearly throwing Cassandra off-balance.  Outside there was a roar - one she recognized, that of a rage demon - and, to her surprise, she saw Leliana’s lips twist into a smile.

She didn’t have the chance to ask why in the Fade Leliana would be  _ smiling _ before Dorian shouted “Finished!”, and Vivienne sprinted towards the doors, ripping them open and joining the fray that could now be heard outside.

“Here, Seeker, quickly!” Dorian called, and Cassandra jogged over.  Just as she reached his side, the doors were wrenched open, and she barely had the chance to see a terror throw someone’s lifeless body upon the floor before Leliana was upon the demons, her knives flashing in the light.  Cassandra cried out as she saw her take a wound that she knew had to be fatal, but then Dorian grabbed her wrist and  _ pulled  _ \- 

And there was silence.

* * *

 

Cassandra hadn’t had the will to protest Wynn’s decision to declare the mages allies, but she at least felt a small glimmer of something at the grateful smile that spread across Fiona’s face.  She had to admit that the thought of forcefully conscripting the mages turned her stomach, after seeing what had become of Fiona in that future.

Inquisition soldiers led Alexius away in chains once they reached Haven.  Wynn and Dorian were trading friendly banter behind Cassandra, joined in occasionally by Vivienne, who spoke derisively of both.  The normality of it threw Cassandra off, as though what had happened was supposed to be some kind of bad dream. The way she’d wished it was, when it was actually happening.

Every so often she felt Wynn’s eyes on her back.  She ignored them.

They had a blessedly short meeting in the war room.  There was a lot to unpack - Cassandra and Dorian relayed everything they could about the future, even the experiments that had been performed on Wynn and Leliana.  Vivienne raised both eyebrows as they revealed her involvement in events, but said little on the subject.

It became too much, too quickly.  Cassandra felt something like a scream building up in her chest at how relaxed everyone seemed to be.  Oh, they were alarmed when they heard about the demon army and Celene’s assassination, but none of them seemed to understand just how dire it had been - how they absolutely could not allow things to become that terrible again.

Leliana caught her eye.  “I think,” she said, smoothly cutting off Cullen’s musings about the civil war in Orlais, “that Cassandra and Dorian would both appreciate some rest after such a troubling ordeal.”

There were murmurings of agreement all around, and the meeting was adjourned.  Cassandra only spared time for a short nod at Leliana before she walked out of the room, trying to keep her pace relaxed as she exited the Chantry and headed for her hut in the village.

She made sure that the door was closed behind her before she slid down against the wall next to the door, trying to keep her breathing under control.  All the things that she couldn’t afford to dwell on while they were stuck in the future - they all came flooding in, all things that she knew she wasn’t prepared to deal with.  A sob escaped her before she could stop it, and then another, and then she was curled up on the floor, wretched noises clawing their way out of her chest.

Cassandra tried, desperately, to reach for the calm that she had achieved during her year-long vigil, but it was out of her grasp.  She only managed to stop making noise when someone knocked on her door, muffling the sounds.

“Cassandra?” came a worried voice through the door - Wynn, sounding so normal, after her crazed behavior in the future.  “I thought - are you in there? Are you alright?”

The thought of facing Wynn, now, after knowing what she could become, knowing the kind of horror she could go through - suddenly it was too much.  With an enormous effort Cassandra kept silent, willing Wynn to leave.

There was a long, awkward pause, before fading footsteps told Cassandra that Wynn was walking away.  She let out a long breath, then sucked in another, forcing herself to even out her breathing. 

It was with another huge effort that she stood, unbuckling her armor - she’d have to clean off the blood at some point.  She changed into some clean clothes, making a note to take a bath as soon as she awoke. She climbed into bed, her heart still pounding, still doing her breathing exercises, trying to clear her mind.

It took her longer than she would’ve liked, but eventually she fell into an uneasy sleep.


	10. Adaptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Hushed Whispers aftermath, plus Wynn's getting a bit twitchy. Enjoy!

‘Downtime’ at Haven, between going out and closing more Fade Rifts, no longer meant actual downtime.

Where before Wynn would be able to rest and recover, and speak to each mage under her supervision individually, she now found herself swamped with things to do.  Since the rebel mages weren’t technically part of the Inquisition but were instead allies, she had become the unofficial liaison between the Inquisition and the rebels.  She wasn’t exactly unhappy with this turn of events, but she could only take so many requests for more blankets and warmer clothes.

“I’m not a bloody requisition officer,” she grumbled, after sending away another unhappy mage.  She needed to talk to Fiona about this; the mages were allies, and that granted them some help, but the ones who wouldn’t or couldn’t fight should’ve been relocated somewhere safer than Haven as soon as possible.  The Inquisition was still a military operation.

She did have a steady trickle of mages come to her to ask if they could join the Inquisition fully, with more people asking to become researchers than soldiers (though they got those too).  She’d need to talk to Cullen about their woeful lack of combat-ready mages at some point, as well.

Over the next few days, she found herself working with Minaeve more and more, as Minaeve had the most knowledge of the Inquisition’s formerly small research division.  Magical researchers reported to Solas, who seemed surprised but pleased by the number of mages eager to work with him. Creature researchers, on the other hand, were Minaeve’s to coordinate, and more often than not Wynn brought new recruits to Minaeve and Josephine’s office, where Minaeve would assign the newcomer to a specific project.

“It’s almost exciting,” Minaeve confessed to Wynn, during a rare lull of activity in Haven.  “Having these many people wanting to help. Though I do miss how quiet it used to be. How are you holding up?”

Minaeve, to Wynn’s surprise, had stopped giving her the cold shoulder a day after Wynn started bringing her recruits.  Maybe it was because Wynn was working hard and being patient with the rebel mages, or maybe it was because Minaeve approved of Wynn’s decision to ally with the mages instead of conscript them (that had been Vivienne’s suggestion, and Wynn had honestly been surprised when Cassandra agreed with her instead of Vivienne).  Either way, she didn’t question her good fortune. She liked talking to Minaeve.

“I’m tired,” Wynn said.  “But it’s good work. Trying to mitigate resources for the mages who don’t want to become full Inquisition members is probably the hardest part.  I’m pretty sure both the rebel mages and the requisition officers hate me at this point.”

“They don’t hate you,” Josephine assured her, quickly; she often joined in on conversations.  “They’re just... frustrated, for now. I am sure that once we have fully adjusted to the presence of the rebel mages, they will be more friendly towards you.”

Wynn snorted.  She recognized an empty platitude when she heard one.

“They’ll come around,” Minaeve told her.  “It’s obvious to me how hard you’re working to make this transition as smooth as possible.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Wynn told her.  “You’ve been working just as hard.”

“I won’t argue that,” Minaeve sighed.  “Suddenly I’m in charge of five projects instead of just one.  It’s terrifying.”

“You’re doing great,” Wynn said.  Minaeve beamed at her in response.

Before Wynn knew it a week had gone by, and it was only as she was collapsing into her bed after a long day of hammering out negotiations with Fiona that she realized that she hadn’t seen Cassandra in all of that time.

Sure, they weren’t attached at the hip when they were at Haven, but they usually had their ritual of cleaning their armor together.  Wynn had cleaned hers in their usual spot, by the training fields, but it had been so rushed that she hadn’t really thought about Cassandra’s absence.  She’d taken to wearing her armor around Haven, as a show of strength and to show the rebel mages that she was to be taken seriously.

She hadn’t seen Cassandra at meal times, either.  They usually ate together, when their duties didn’t prevent it.  Instead, however, the space across from her had been taken by Varric, who was good enough at holding conversation that she didn’t really notice Cassandra’s absence.  On many evenings she’d taken to eating with the Inquisition’s mages, so she saw less of everyone else in the Inquisition, but it was still unusual that she hadn’t seen Cassandra at all.

The next morning, she was startled awake by an old nightmare, and even though Josephine had insisted that she take the day off now that the official agreement with the rebel mages had been drafted, she pulled on her armor and went for a jog around the lake, coming back to find Haven stirring as the sun peeked over the mountains.  She was heading to the kitchens to get breakfast when she spotted Cassandra emerging from her own hut.

She lifted a hand to wave, preparing to join her, but Cassandra’s eyes went right past her as though she hadn’t seen her.  Wynn’s steps faltered, and she watched as Cassandra made a show of examining the woodpile outside of her hut before she went back inside.

Frowning, Wynn continued to the kitchens.

She mulled it over as she ate breakfast with the other early risers - namely Solas, who always seemed to be up before everyone else.  It was obvious that Cassandra was avoiding her, and likely had been for some time. She could guess that it had something to do with the future that Cassandra had seen in Redcliffe, though she wasn’t sure what.

Wynn had become so used to running amok in Haven that she wasn’t sure what to do with herself for the rest of the day.  She ended up playing Wicked Grace with Varric, Sera, and Bull in the tavern for a few hours, then went out and trained with the templars and regular soldiers for a while; she was out of practice fighting against templars.  As the day approached its end, she resolved to find Cassandra and confront her, starting at her hut.

There were no lights on, which either meant that Cassandra was sleeping or wasn’t there.  It was still early, and though Cassandra wasn’t one to stay up late, she also never retired before the sun went down.  She ventured to the Chantry next, checking in the war room, Josephine and Minaeve’s office, and even the dungeons, finding nothing.

Heading outside the chantry, a thought struck her - she remembered that Cassandra had once mentioned in passing that, as a child, she used to hide behind the local Chantry when everything got to be too much.  It was a long shot, and Wynn could barely imagine Cassandra hiding from anything, but she decided it wouldn’t hurt to look.

She circled around, but paused when she heard the low murmur of voices.  One was Cassandra’s, but Wynn blinked as she realized that the other was Dorian’s.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she settled against the wall in the darkness, just close enough to make out what they were saying.

“...do you know that you would win?”

A sniff.  “Clearly I have more finesse than most of these southern mages.  Oh, certainly, I suppose Lady Trevelyan is excellent in a fight, but I daresay I could put on a better show with fire magic than she could.”

“Were she here, I’m sure she would argue that point.”

“Ah, but she’s not - which means I automatically win that hypothetical argument.”

Wynn hid her laugh in her glove, then debated announcing her presence, but something made her stop herself.

There was a comfortable silence following Dorian’s words, making Wynn wonder why these two seemed to be fine with hanging out behind the Chantry.  She’d been under the impression that Cassandra wasn’t all that fond of Dorian, given his Tevinter origins and his boastful nature. Obviously something had made the two seek out each other’s company, and she was surprised by the flare of jealousy she felt.

Before she even had the time to process that, Dorian spoke again.

“You still haven’t talked to her, have you?”

“No.”  Cassandra let out a frustrated sigh.  “It is - infuriating.  _ I  _ am infuriating!  Do you know, I saw her this morning - I think she wanted us to eat together.  By now she must have noticed - I can no longer hope that her business has kept her distracted.”

“Ah, it’s not all bad,” Dorian said.  “From what she’s told me, she’s had a pleasant day off.  Got to beat up several former templars, by the sound of it.  Do you think it’s odd how happy that makes her?”

Cassandra snorted.  “I might think it odd if it were anyone but Wynn.  She has told you what she used to do in her Circle, has she not?”

“Point taken.”  Another pause. “Just get it over with, Cassandra.  You’ll probably feel better if you do.”

“I suppose,” Cassandra admitted.  “Now - did you read the next chapter of that novel I sent you?”

“Which one?” Dorian asked.  “The one where the two main characters have sex in the third chapter or the one where they have sex in the fourth chapter?  It’s so easy to get those two books mixed. The titles are even similar...”

The two started a surprisingly passionate argument about romance novels, but Wynn was already silently moving away, thinking over what she’d just heard.  So Cassandra wanted to talk to her, but was afraid to, and she’d been having... apparently very emotional talks with Dorian. Most likely they bonded during their time in the future, or something like that, but she wasn’t too hung up on that development.

It was somewhat reassuring, to realize that Cassandra did want to speak to her.  Maybe it was better for her to wait until Cassandra was ready. She nodded to herself, firmly telling herself that it was because she was being patient, and not because she was afraid of whatever it was Cassandra might have to say.

She forgot about her weird spike of jealousy, and headed to bed.

* * *

 

Wynn awoke to someone pounding on her door.  She grumbled as she pulled herself out of bed, scowling when she realized that it was still dark outside.  When she pulled it open, she blinked in surprise to see that it was Cassandra.

“Bit early, isn’t it?” she grumbled.

“We need you,” Cassandra said, without preamble.  “Now. They’ve captured someone else from the Thorn Coalition.”

Wynn’s stomach dropped to her feet.

She pulled on her clothes at record speed, foregoing her armor in favor of her cloak.  There was a fresh dusting of snow on the ground, but the camp was mostly silent, aside from a few soldiers and scouts who were milling around the tents, looking nervous.  Probably the group that had brought in the Thorn Coalition mage, whoever it was.

Wynn’s mind raced.  Who had they caught?  She had assumed that the Thorn Coalition would be safe in the southern Frostbacks, but either they’d ventured out of the mountains for some reason, or the Inquisition had been more daring than she’d thought.  

Cassandra led the way down into the dungeons.  Leliana and Cullen were already waiting for them by one of the solitary cells - the same one Wynn had been kept in.  She thought, briefly, of Harama, in the next cell over, and her stomach twisted at the thought of yet another captive.

Her stomach sank even lower when she peered in through the grate and saw the very distinct horns of a Qunari.

_ No, _ she thought.   _ No no no no -  _

“He’s been more accommodating than our last prisoner,” Leliana was saying.  “He was happy to tell us that his name is Adaar. He also claims to be DeFleur.”

Wynn spun around, unable to keep the surprise from her face.  “What?”

Leliana shrugged.  “I was skeptical too, but he says that he was the one who started the Thorn Coalition.  I imagine he had motive; I doubt that the Circle he was in treated a Qunari mage fairly.  But still... it seemed odd for him to just admit it. In spite of that, he doesn’t seem to be lying.”

“Strange,” was all Wynn was able to say.   _ What the fuck are you doing, Evert? _

“I don’t think all of us interrogating him at once would be wise,” Cassandra said, frowning.  “After what happened last time. Perhaps Wynn and I should ask him some questions.”

Wynn nodded in agreement, heart racing.  Leliana frowned, looking between the two of them, but she murmured her agreement after a moment and stepped away from the door to the cell.  Cullen followed, looking uneasy.

Cassandra pushed the door open first, followed by Wynn.  At once, she was struck by the marked difference between Evert and Harama - where Harama had been on edge, practically vibrating with tension and fear, Evert looked like he had no better place to be.  He was leaning against the wall, his hands folded in his lap, his legs stretched out in front of them. He sent Cassandra a two-fingered salute and a cheerful grin.

“Hello, Heralds,” he greeted.  “So nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Wynn and Cassandra exchanged glances.  Wynn gave Casssandra a small nod, surprising herself, but she realized that she did indeed trust Cassandra to take the lead in this.  Or, at the very least, she trusted Cassandra to listen to her if she told her to back off.

“Not nearly as much as we have heard about you,” Cassandra said, after a long pause.  “DeFleur, the scourge of templars across Thedas. Everyone speaks of you as though you are some kind of nightmare.  I must say, though, that I am surprised. I would think it would be difficult to hide that you are a Qunari.”

Evert shrugged.  “Well, we don’t exactly have anything that singles me out.  I wear the same armor as everyone else - “

“ _ Stolen _ armor,” Cassandra interrupted.

“Tomato, tomato,” Evert said, waving a hand.  “At any rate, I’m sure you have questions. Ask away.”

Cassandra, to her credit, wasn’t thrown off by his apparent willingness.  “Where are you followers?”

“Can’t say.”  Evert sat up, crossing his legs.  “You must understand, Lady Pentaghast - we’re not exactly fond of Chantry folk.  And we already know what it is the Inquisition would want from us - it’s no secret that you were looking for us in the Hinterlands.  So I’m going to keep my mouth shut on that one.”

Evert spoke with an affected carelessness, but his gaze was sharp as it traveled from Cassandra to Wynn.  It struck Wynn, then, why he was doing this - maybe getting captured hadn’t been part of the plan, but now that he was he was milking it for all it was worth.  He was putting himself forth as DeFleur so that her cover was assured. 

Wynn swallowed down a sudden lump in her throat at that.

Cassandra laid her hand on the hilt of her sword.  “And if I were to  _ make  _ you tell us?”

Evert looked at her.  “Then I’d say you’ll have to try harder.”

The two stared at one another, engaging in a silent battle of wills.  Wynn remained still and silent, already fairly certain of what the outcome would be, but she was tensed enough that she could intervene if she needed to.  After a long moment, Cassandra sighed and let go of her sword hilt. 

“What  _ can  _ you tell us, then?” she asked.  

“Not much,” he answered, shrugging.  “I can tell you that none of us were very happy with our comrade’s capture.  That we’re curious about what you plan to do with the rebel mages - your so-called ‘allies’, now - and that we’d like to know if you succeed in closing the Breach.”

“So you’re here to spy,” Cassandra said flatly.

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.”

“Not a very subtle way of going about it.”

“We all have moments of weakness.”

Cassandra glanced at Wynn.  “What do you make of this?”

Evert turned his gaze on Wynn as well, a mixture of mirth and sadness in it.  Wynn was struck by the latter, causing her gut to flip over again. In that moment, she understood exactly why Evert had gotten himself captured, and she knew that it meant nothing good.

“I think he’s telling the truth,” she said, ensuring that her voice didn’t shake.  “Although he’s certainly omitting something.”

Cassandra was quiet for a long moment, then said, “I agree.  Very well, Adaar - though I don’t know what you expect to find out from a prison cell.”

“We’ll see,” Evert replied, cheerful once again.

He deliberately did not look at Wynn again, though she searched him for wounds for a quick moment.  She didn’t find any, so she turned and followed Cassandra out of the cell, to find her already speaking with Leliana and Cullen.  She shut the door, moving out of the way so that the guard could lock it. 

A sudden wave of guilt hit her.  What was she doing here? The Thorn Coalition needed her, or Evert wouldn’t have come.  She hadn’t even tried to check on Harama - had barely thought about her since her capture.  She was so caught up in this save-the-world craziness that she was losing sight of what was important, and she resolved to put that right.

Starting now.

“I’m going to go back in there for a few minutes,” she told the others, interrupting their conversation.  “There might be something more he’s willing to say to a mage. Alone,” she adds, when Cassandra starts to step forward.  She remembered too late that she’d been hoping to get the chance to talk to Cassandra, but that didn’t seem important anymore.

“It’s a good idea,” agreed Leliana.  “Go. We’ll be in the war room when you’re finished.”

It was a mark of how much they trusted her, Wynn realized, that they were willing to leave her alone while she ‘interrogated’ one of their prisoners.  How much they’d all come to see her as one of their own - and how much she become used to thinking of herself as one of them. She wasn’t - she couldn’t be - but if things went according to plan, the Breach would soon be closed and she could make her escape, with none of them any wiser.

Well, they might be wiser - she would, of course, have to break out Evert and Harama before she left.  Then they would know that she was at least a member of the Thorn Coalition, if not its leader. 

Wynn shook her head; she was getting ahead of herself.  She nodded at the guard, and thought she heard an audible sigh as they moved to unlock the door.

Evert raised an eyebrow as she entered, alone.  “Oh, so the mage Herald thinks she can get me to talk?  How quaint.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Wynn said, speaking normally.  She moved a few steps closer and lowered her voice to almost a whisper.  “What’s wrong?”

“It might hurt your feelings a bit, when you fail,” Evert said, shrugging.  Then, also whispering: “People disappearing, in the Frostbacks. We don’t know who’s taking us.”

_ Shit. _  “I don’t fail,” Wynn said flatly.  “What can I do?”

“Get that Breach closed,” he whispered.  “Come home.”

His mask of bravado fell away at the word ‘home’, and Wynn closed her eyes, keeping her breathing under control.  People were disappearing, and if Evert had come to find her, then it must have been bad. She nodded in response, wishing that she could just abandon the pretense and give him a hug, or something.

Just doing this much was dangerous, though.  She cleared her throat, and asked him a few questions that she knew the Inquisition wanted to know.  He was as evasive with her as he’d been with Cassandra, though he shot her a wink when she pretended to throw her hands up in frustration and left the cell.

Wynn headed up to the war room, taking a few brief moments to tell Cassandra, Leliana, and Cullen that she couldn’t get anything out of him, and then left the Chantry.  Her mind was still whirling as she frantically tried to plan. There would likely be a celebration after the Breach was closed - it would be easier to slip down to the dungeons and free Evert and Harama.  It would be harder to get Evert out without being noticed, but she was fairly certain that they could scale the back wall of Haven, so long as she grabbed some rope beforehand. They would slip away into the night, and it would be some time before anyone noticed that the prisoners were gone, and she along with them.

Wynn tried not to think about what Cassandra’s fury would be like when she realized.

“Wynn!”

For a moment, she thought that her guilt made her imagine Cassandra’s voice, but she blinked as Cassandra suddenly caught up to her, not even out of breath.  “I was hoping to speak with you.”

Wynn blinked for a few moments, coming up blank, before she remembered the conversation that she’d heard between Cassandra and Dorian, earlier that night.  She realized that it must’ve been early morning by now, but she wasn’t feeling all that tired, so she slowed her pace to allow Cassandra to walk next to her.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

Cassandra hesitated.  “Not exactly,” she admitted.

In spite of Wynn’s recent thoughts, her curiosity was peaked.  “What is it?”

Cassandra looked around, as though expecting to see Inquisition followers around every corner.  “Perhaps we could discuss this in your cabin...? Or mine is fine, as well, I only thought that since yours is closer - “

“We can go to mine,” Wynn said, unable to stop herself from smiling at Cassandra’s rambling.

Cassandra nodded, looking embarrassed.  “I - thank you.”

Their walk to Wynn’s hut was silent, broken only by the snow crunching beneath their boots.  Wynn grabbed a few logs and brought them inside, throwing them in the fireplace and lighting it, flooding the small space with warm light.  She toed off her boots and shivered, drawing her cloak further around herself as she waited for the warmth from the fire to heat the hut up.  

She sat on the floor near the fireplace.  Cassandra hovered awkwardly in the doorway, glancing down at herself as though suddenly aware of the armor she still wore.  She hesitated a moment, then shrugged and sat down next to Wynn, leaving it on.

Wynn had intended to let Cassandra lead the conversation, but her curiosity got the better of her.  “Is this about why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Cassandra sighed.  “You noticed.”

“Well, we usually spend at least  _ some  _ time together,” Wynn pointed out.

“I apologize.”  Cassandra raked a hand through her hair, somehow not disturbing her braid.  “I have been meaning to speak to you about it - to explain - but I have always lost the nerve, for some reason.  It isn’t fair to you, and I owe you a reason.”

Wynn shrugged, gesturing for her to continue.

“Regarding the alternate future that Dorian and I witnessed at Redcliffe,” Cassandra began, and Wynn went cold as a thought occurred to her - could Wynn have been exposed as DeFleur in the future?  Perhaps the Venatori had somehow found out, leading to Cassandra and Dorian finding out, and now Cassandra was confronting her.

She mentally shook her head.  She suspected that Cassandra would be a bit more aggressive if that was what she wanted to discuss.

“When we were there, everyone we saw - you, Leliana, Vivienne - you were all different.  You’d undergone things that I cannot even imagine, but I - “ she broke off, swallowing thickly.  “Sometimes I don’t know how to reconcile the you there is now - relatively whole and healthy - with the you I met in the future.  And since I didn’t know how to deal with it, I simply chose not to deal with it at all.”

Cassandra scowled.  “As I said, it is not fair to you, and I apologize.  I will attempt to be more mature about this, going forward.”

Wynn took a moment to digest that.  It made sense, even if it sounded like a strange reason for Cassandra to be avoiding her outright.  She herself didn’t remember the alternate future, and had no way of knowing what kind of things Cassandra had seen, aside from the general summary the Inquisition leadership had gotten from her and Dorian.  She smiled at Cassandra, feeling warmth at the thought that Cassandra had been able to trust her with this.

At the same time... it would have been easier, in the long run, if Cassandra had just continued to avoid her.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said.  “No hard feelings, alright?”

Cassandra smiled back, her face softened by it in a way that Wynn had never seen before.  “I am glad to hear that.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, with Wynn finally starting to feel exhaustion overcome her.  Cassandra must have noticed, because she pushed herself to her feet, covering her own yawn with her hand.

At the door, she paused.

“There was one thing that the other you said to me,” Cassandra said.  “A... warning, I think, though I do not know who you were warning me about.  You told me, ‘flowers can have thorns’ - a warning about the Thorn Coalition, perhaps?  I was hoping you might know.”

Wynn blinked a couple of times, before arranging her features into a placid, clueless mask.

“I don’t know,” she replied.  “Maybe it’s something that will make itself clear, in time.”

“Let us hope so,” Cassandra sighed.  “It gives me a bad feeling.”

Cassandra left the cabin, leaving Wynn to climb into her bed, curling on her side away from the fire, a cold pit of dread in her stomach.  So much for sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm opening this up for any constructive criticism my readers might have. I get the sense that my chapters might be a bit rushed, or that some of my prose is awkward - but I'm not sure if it's just me, or if it's really there. If anyone sees something that they think could be improved, please let me know!


	11. Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big things happening in this chapter, in spite of its length. Next chapter will be even bigger.

The sun was just peaking over the mountains when Cassandra approached the fire where Wynn sat, staring down at her bowl.  A few other mages that Cassandra didn’t recognize were also sitting near the fire, but they shifted to make room for her, no longer questioning why Wynn and Cassandra tended to take their meals together.

She could feel the nervous energy throughout Haven.  People were jumpier than normal, and the cooks in the kitchen had been more subdued as they gave Cassandra her morning meal.

Cassandra sat down, downing spoonfuls of porridge more quickly than was proper.  She couldn't explain why she suddenly felt ravenous, but she decided not to question it.  She was going to need all her strength today.

By contrast, Wynn's porridge was untouched.  Her lips were pursed as she stared down at her food, and she didn't acknowledge Cassandra with so much as a nod.  Her hands were curled into fists; for a moment, Cassandra wondered if Wynn was trying to light the bowl on fire with her gaze.

She didn't say anything while she finished her own food, hoping that Wynn would snap out of it on her own.  When she swallowed her last mouthful, only to see that Wynn hadn't even moved, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

“Staring at it will not make your breakfast disappear.”

Wynn's head snapped up, her eyes blinking rapidly.  “Beg pardon?”

Cassandra snorted.  “Well, now I  _ know _ something is wrong- that is probably the most polite thing you've ever said to me.”

“... was that a joke?”

Cassandra scowled, hunching her shoulders.  “I have made them before. You were simply not paying attention.  And stop changing the subject. You need to eat, especially today.”

Wynn rolled her eyes, which was more in keeping with her usual attitude, but started to eat anyway.  It was slow-going, and she grimaced with every bite, but eventually she managed to clean out her bowl.  

She pushed it away as soon as she was finished, before looking up at Cassandra and asking, “Do you really think we can do this?”

Ah.  If only that very question hadn't been rattling around in her head all night.

“I cannot afford to think of it in terms of can or cannot,” she replied.  “We must, therefore we will.”

“Your conviction is admirable.”

Cassandra opened her mouth, ready to admit that her doubts were still churning in her head, then thought better of it.  It appeared that Wynn needed reassurance today, not commiseration.

“I know you do not believe in the Maker,” she said.  “But if you will not have faith in him, have faith in us.  Have faith in the mages you have been working so hard to help.  Closing rifts has become second nature to us - closing a very large one will merely require more effort.”

She stood up.  Wynn hesitated, but Cassandra was relieved when Wynn's expression settled into something harder, more determined.

“Alright then,” she said.  “Let's go seal up the giant hole in the sky.”

* * *

 

When it was over - after a moment that felt like a hundred eternities - Cassandra just barely managed to from sliding to the ground.  

Beside her Wynn stumbled, her legs wobbling.  Cassandra grabbed her around the waist, steadying her until Wynn gave her a nod.  She kept one eye on Wynn as they pivoted to face the rest of the Inquisition, whose cheers were just now registering in Cassandra's ears.

Wynn let out a relieved, breathless laugh, and Cassandra smiled, echoing the sentiment.  

She felt steady enough to attempt walking over to where Solas and Cullen waited.  Cullen wore the biggest grin that Cassandra had ever seen from him. Solas was not the type to ever grin, but she thought she saw the smallest hint of a smile.  She herself let something like a giggle escape her, made giddy by their success. 

She and Wynn leaned on one another as they made their way back down the mountain, towards Haven.  Their procession was small - they had taken only Cullen, Solas, a group of mages for powering the Marks, and a group of former templars to hold off any demons that might slip through the Breach.  Everyone, including the mages, was talking and laughing - their triumph had everyone in high spirits. Cassandra beamed when she caught sight of one of the templars and one of the mages walking side-by-side, talking animatedly to one another.

Wynn, who was still pressed into Cassandra’s side, nudged her.  “You did this, you know,” she said.

Startled, Cassandra glanced at her.  “I’m fairly certain it was a group effort.”

Wynn shrugged, the movement lifted the arm Cassandra had thrown around her shoulders.  “I mean, yes, everyone pitched in. But the fact of the matter is, you were the one who acted when it counted.  Even when people suspected you of Justinia’s death, you didn’t let that stop you from doing what needed to be done.”

“Neither did you,” Cassandra pointed out.

Wynn snorted.  “I was the one who wanted to leave the minute I woke up in that cell.  I didn’t care about any greater problems that stemmed from the Conclave’s destruction.  Certainly, I came around later, but that was mostly thanks to you.”

Cassandra couldn’t help the blush that crept onto her face.  “I think you give me too much credit.”

“One day I’ll get you to accept it,” Wynn said.  An odd look appeared on her face. “I just - you know I respect you by now, right?  I’m honored to have worked with you.”

“Of course,” Cassandra said, blinking.  “And I think the same of you. I would so far as to - I would call us friends, yes?”

The look flashed to one of outright sadness, but it was gone before Cassandra could question it, replaced by a too wide grin.  

“Friends,” Wynn agreed.

That conversation looped itself in Cassandra’s head until they reached Haven, where she was distracted by the near-deafening cheers of the rest of the Inquisition.  The inner circle was standing at the front of the crowd, with Leliana and Josephine in the center. Leliana was reserved, as always, applauding with a small smile on her face.  Josephine was decidedly less restrained, doing a little dance in place and beaming. 

“I don’t have enough energy for this,” Wynn said, somehow audible over the din.  “But I suppose the Inquisition doesn’t need to know that.”

Cassandra wanted nothing more than to collapse into her bed at that moment, but she knew what Wynn meant.  So she straightened up, taking her weight off of Wynn for the first time, and managed to raise a fist into the air.

The cheers became almost deafening after that.

Wynn, who was now gripping her staff hard enough to turn her knuckles white, managed a laugh.  “Look at you, playing the crowd,” she said, as the gathered masses started to disperse. No doubt they were already preparing for the celebrations that would ensue.  

Cassandra shrugged.  “It’s a good way to boost morale.”

“So is a party,” Wynn said.  “You think they’ll give us time to nap before the festivities?”

* * *

 

The celebrations went on past sundown, though by then there was less dancing and more grouping together around fires with beers in hand.  Cassandra found herself gathered in one such group, with company that she would have disdained not a month ago. Wynn was cracking her jaw with yawns across from her, with Varric sitting next to her and nudging her every time she did.  Cassandra sat in between Dorian and Minaeve, the latter of whom had joined them at Wynn’s insistence. Sera next to Dorian, with Varric on her other side, and Cullen had surprised them all by sitting between Wynn and Sera.

Bull was somewhere over with the dancers, still, though Cassandra had a feeling that he would be joining their group as soon as he got tired of it.  Josephine had retired early, and Leliana and Vivienne were nowhere to be seen.

“You sure you don’t want a beer, Tattoos?” Varric asked.

Wynn snorted.  “I’m tired enough to act inebriated.  The last thing I need is to get actually drunk right now.”

“Fair enough.”

“Y’should get one anyway,” Sera slurred, giggling.  “Should chug it down. Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Cullen patted her on the shoulder.  Cassandra held back a snort, well aware that Cullen was equally drunk and doing everything in his power not to show it.  

She let the conversation wash over her, until Bull came over and dragged Wynn over to the dancing, with Varric, Minaeve, and Sera trailing after.  Cullen mumbled something about getting some water (and Cassandra sincerely hoped that no one shoved yet another beer in his hand), but Dorian opted to stay sitting next to her, much to her surprise.

“I never was one for dancing,” he admitted to her.

“Truly?” Cassandra said.  “If I am being honest, I would guessed that you were.”

“Yes, because the idea of tripping over my own feet in front of another person truly sounds like I’d be having the time of my life.”

Cassandra schooled her expression into something more serious.  “It is not so bad,” she countered. “Once you get a sense of the rhythm it becomes easier to move with your partner.  I secretly enjoyed it, as a girl.”

Dorian squinted at her.  “You’re having me on.”

“...maybe.”

“No, you definitely are.”  Dorian smirked. “Admit it, you don’t like it any more than I do.”

“Not true,” Cassandra said.  “I like the idea behind it. The romance of it.  But the actual act, I will agree, is not so wonderful.”

“What were you just doing, then?  Quoting your dance instructors?”

Cassandra laughed.  “Correct.”

Almost as one, Cassandra and Dorian turned to look at the dancers, just in time to see Bull send Wynn into a dizzying spin.  The song they were dancing to ended a moment later, and Wynn warded off other requests to dance as she made her way back to their fire, looking winded but cheerful.

“No dancing for you two, then?” she asked.  “Just as well - I think I might throw up.”

“You haven’t even drunk anything tonight,” Dorian pointed out.

“No, and judging by the way my stomach is heaving?  I don’t want to start now. I think I might retire for the night, actually - I’m exhausted.”

It was a reminder that Cassandra, too, was tired to the bone, but she didn’t feel like heading to bed just yet.  “Good night,” she told Wynn.

Wynn nodded back at her, but before she could leave, someone called, “Wynn!  Cassandra!”

The voice came from Cassandra’s left, and she turned to see Leliana and Vivienne making their way towards them.  She opened her mouth to greet them, but closed it at the sight of the pinched frown on Leliana’s face. Vivienne, by contrast, wore a more pleasant expression, but there was a tightness to her eyes that gave her away.

Cassandra stood.  “Is something the matter?” she asked.  

Leliana glanced between her, Wynn, and Dorian.  “We’d like to discuss something with you,” she said, after a moment.  “And Wynn. Preferably in private.”

“Sounds serious,” Wynn joked.  “And just as I was about to head to bed.”

“It’s urgent,” Leliana said.  “I’m sorry. Perhaps... let’s go to the Chantry.”

Cassandra glanced at Wynn, who only shrugged, but her tiredness was suddenly gone.  Dorian had gone tense, easily sensing that the atmosphere had changed, though no one else at the celebrations seemed to notice.  He waved them off and headed over to watch the dancing, leaving Cassandra and Wynn to follow Leliana.

Unsurprisingly, the chantry was deserted.  Not a single sister or brother remained, not even in prayer.  It meant that they had some privacy, but it also meant that their voices echoed oddly when the spoke.  The effect contributed to Cassandra’s growing unease.

Leliana stopped in the middle of the chapel, with Vivienne at her side.

“What is this about?” Cassandra asked.  “Has something happened?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Vivienne said.

Leliana cleared her throat.  “Vivienne came to me a few days ago,” she began.  “It was just after she found out about DeFleur’s capture.  She told me that it didn’t make much sense for DeFleur to allow himself to be captured, out of nowhere, and that she... had some suspicions about it.  So I sent agents out.”

“Where?” Cassandra asked.

“A few of the Circle Towers in the Free Marches,” Leliana said.  “Ostwick being one of them.”

Ostwick was where Wynn was from.  Cassandra glanced at her, but Wynn didn’t appear bothered.  At that same moment, that sense of  _ wrong _ , the one that had creeped up on her a few times in the last few weeks, returned, this time stronger than before.

“Ostwick was a mess,” Leliana continued.  “The bodies there were numerous. We knew that there had been carnage at Ostwick, but if I’m not mistaken... it was widely believed that there were many more mage casualties than my agents found.”

Again, Cassandra glanced at Wynn, and again, she could not discern any change in her expression.

“Most of the bodies were those of Templars,” Leliana continued.  “Though we did find a few mages, who looked like they’d been killed by Templars, and one Senior Enchanter Lydia, dead in her office.   _ Her  _ wounds were caused by a mage.”

This time Wynn did speak.  “There was very little love lost between Lydia and most of the mages in Ostwick.  I wish I could say I was surprised.”

Leliana gave Wynn a long, measured look before she said, “I have no doubt of that, considering Lydia kept extensive records of each and every mage in the Circle.  What they liked to do in their spare time, where they slept, eating habits, relationships with other mages... all information that has very little to do with a mage’s role in the Circle.  But those records were untouched by whatever it was that befell the Ostwick Circle.”

“Included in the records,” Vivienne said, taking over and looking unusually grim, “were two files.  One was on you, Wynn. Lydia described you as ‘dangerous’, and someone that must be kept happy but isolated in order to be controlled.  She believed you to be content enough as the one who sparred with Templars. But she was wrong, wasn’t she?”

Cassandra felt a growing unease in the pit of her stomach.  “What exactly are you implying, Vivienne?”

“You knew Lydia,” Wynn said to Vivienne.  “You know how much that bitch loved to control everything and everyone around her.  So what if I don’t feel much remorse about her death?”

“The other file,” Leliana said, “Contained information on a Qunari runaway, who came to the Ostwick Circle for refuge after his magic was discovered.  His name was Everdred Adaar. ‘Evert’, for short. According to Lydia, after he arrived, the two of you were inseparable.”

It took Cassandra a few moments to connect the dots - the Qunari they had in their dungeon, claiming to be DeFleur.  The name he’d given them was Adaar. And Wynn had referenced an ‘Evert’ a few times in their conversations. Those were the only times where she seemed to miss the Circle.

“You’re part of the Thorn Coalition,” Leliana said.

Cassandra’s heart started thundering in her ears.  She looked at Wynn once again, to see her, somehow, completely calm, in the face of such an accusation.  She knew that Leliana’s information was correct. She knew that it made sense, considering how Wynn had acted around them all when she’d first been captured.  

But the words that came out of her mouth were, “There must be another explanation.”

“Yes, there must,” Wynn said, and Cassandra’s heart sank at the biting sarcasm in her voice.  “Because it’s so horrible, isn’t it, to want freedom from Templars. Because it’s far too taxing on everyone else to give us the responsibility of policing ourselves - after all, we’re just conduits for demons.  That gives you the right to lock us up for all of our lives.”

“You drew out the war,” Vivienne pointed out.

“We  _ never  _ hurt innocents!” Wynn snarled, rounding on her.  “We never got local villages involved in our fight, or if we did, we were careful to go into a village in disguise when we needed supplies and the like.”

“But you killed Templars,” Vivienne pointed out - and now she was the calm one, when Cassandra could barely breathe.  “Templars, who from a certain point of view, were prisoners, just as much as you were.”

“It was the Templars - and Lydia - who were planning to slaughter us, after the news of Kirkwall came in,” Wynn said.  “I did what I had to do.”

Not ‘we’, Cassandra noted - ‘I’.

“You’re not just a part of the Thorn Coalition,” she realized out loud, the words sounding dull to her ears.  “You’re DeFleur. Adaar was covering for you.”

The silence following that statement was deafening.

How much of it had been a lie?  Whenever Wynn had shown concern for Cassandra - both on and off the battlefield - how much of it had just been to hide her hatred of a Seeker?  How deep did their friendship truly go, when all along Wynn was the founder of the group known for raiding Circle Towers and attacking groups of Templars.  How much had she really ‘helped’ them when she was interrogated the female mage, or Adaar?

Wynn inclined her head, meeting Cassandra’s gaze.  “Yes.”

That word startled Vivienne into action.  Before anyone else spoke, a wall of ice formed around Wynn, up to her neck.  Wynn sneered at her.

“What in the blazes is going on?”

Cassandra spun towards the entrance to the Chantry, where Dorian stood with Varric, Sera and Bull.  Everyone was taking in the scene in front of them with wide eyes.

“Keep your distance,” Leliana ordered, her voice as cold as Vivienne’s ice.  “Wynn is DeFleur.”

Feeling like she was moving through molasses, Cassandra drew her sword, pointing it at Wynn.  Her thoughts whirled around in her head, uncontrollable, as she tried to decide how to feel. 

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” Varric said.

The wrongness was back again, a prickle crawling down her arms, and Cassandra wracked her brains - why did it feel so  _ familiar _ ?

“Very funny, Viv,” Sera called.

“I don’t joke,” Vivienne said, not taking her eyes off Wynn.  “You were always angry when we were children, my dear. Always chomping at the bit to learn more about battle magic, at the tender age of eleven.  I get the sense that this started long before Kirkwall.”

“There was another record,” Leliana began.  She hadn’t yet drawn any weapons, but Cassandra had a feeling she didn’t need any.  “From around the time you joined the Circle. It was for the execution of an Everdred  _ Trevelyan _ .”

“Do  _ not _ ,” hissed Wynn, “say her name.”

“Whoa, hey,” Varric said, taking a few steps forward.  “Maybe we should talk about this before we start digging at old wounds.”

Vivienne ignored him.  “I remember you mentioning her,” she said, staring.  “I was always under the impression that you simply missed her dearly, after you were taken to the Circle.  Now, suddenly, it makes more sense.”

“Piss off, Vivienne.”

“Agree to come quietly, and I might.”

“How in the Fade do you figure that she’s DeFleur?” Dorian asked.  “Cassandra?”

It said something about their unusual bonding experience that she was the one he addressed.  She swallowed, keeping her sword pointed at Wynn, but angling her body so that she could glance at Dorian.

“It’s true,” she said.

“ _ You’re _ one of those crazies?” Sera exclaimed.  “No, scratch that - the  _ leader  _ of those crazies?”

Wynn didn’t look at her, her eyes on Vivienne.

“You knew what I was like, back then,” she said.  “You weren’t so different.”

Vivienne smiled mirthlessly.  “But I was, darling,” she said.  “Honestly, considering how unstable you were - and how angry you continue to be - it’s a wonder you’re not an abomination.”

Those words hit Cassandra like a gut punch.

“Get back!” she shouted.  “Back, all of you! She’s - “

She had just enough time to gather some of her power into herself, pulling at the magic that was pouring off Wynn in waves - but it wasn’t enough.  It had always been enough before, but before Cassandra knew it the ice was melting away, and Wynn’s eyes had started to glow a sinister orange.

“What fitting words,” she said, her voice echoing oddly.  Flames gathered around her palm, leaving her unharmed, but Cassandra could  _ feel  _ the heat emanating from her.  Vivienne and Leliana were both backing away, Vivienne holding her staff out in front of her as though that could ward away the heat.

“That’s impossible,” Vivienne gasped, eyes wide.  “We would’ve known, would’ve sensed it -”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Wynn interrupted, her voice even more warped.  Cassandra, noticing that Wynn’s attention wasn’t on her, waved for everyone near the doors to run out.  Everyone but Dorian obeyed.

“You’re going to let Evert and the other Thorn Coalition mage out of their cells,” Wynn continued.  Smoke was rising from her arms. “You’re going to let us leave Haven, and then if you know what’s good for you, the Inquisition will leave us be.”

Cassandra felt sick to her stomach, feeling the magic crawling over her skin, well aware that Wynn could immolate the three of them with merely a thought.  Somehow - somehow, the demon hadn’t pushed all the way through and emerged completely - but did that mean that Wynn was in control, or was it the demon?

“You cannot win, Rage,” Vivienne said, still holding her staff out in front of her.  “Even if you manage to defeat us, there is still the entire Inquisition to go through.”

Wynn shrugged.  “Then I’ll kill you, bring them with me, and we’ll sneak out the back.  Either way is plausible for me. Only one is plausible for you.”

Vivienne tensed, and Cassandra did her best to enter a tranquil state, letting her mind clear so that she would be able to counteract the abomination’s abilities.  The abomination tensed as well, and the temperature in the room began to rise -

Then the bells started ringing.

All three of them froze.  The doors were shoved open a moment later, and Cullen came running in.

“We’re under attack!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an explanation for Wynn's 'control' over the demon that's possessing her, but we probably won't get to it for a while.


	12. Defense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest? I don't know why this chapter took so long. It's not like it's lacking excitement.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Rage tried to take advantage of Wynn’s shock, but she wrestled it back down, the effort leaving her weak.  She struggled to handle the demon and to pay attention to what Cullen was saying at the same time, and was only able to make out the words “...army... mountain... hundreds...”

It was enough for her to deduce what was happening.

_ Who?  _ she thought.   _ Who would want to attack the Inquisition now, of all times? _

She felt only the smallest twinge of regret at the realization that she could no longer count herself among them, but she felt detached from it, her mindless anger taking precedence.  Bit by bit she calmed herself down, knowing that eliminating Rage altogether was impossible, but that she could at least get it down to a simmer.

Dorian hurried out the doors, probably to see if he could get a look at what was going on.

Cullen trailed off, his eyes moving between Cassandra, Vivienne, Leliana, and finally herself - specifically, the weapons they had trained on her.  She was coherent enough to notice when he rested a hand on the hilt of his own sword.

“What's going on?” he asked.

Cassandra was the one who answered, though she hadn't taken her eyes off Wynn since Cullen came in.  “Wynn is the real DeFleur, and therefore a traitor. She's likely responsible for the army on our doorstep.”

“I'm not,” Wynn said.

“What's more,” Cassandra continued, “she is an abomination.  A danger to everyone, regardless of what side she is on.”

Cullen's eyebrows tried to climb into his hair.  All he managed to say was, “Oh?”

“In spite of any of what was just said,” Wynn said, raising her voice, “the force outside  _ isn't mine _ .”

This time, Leliana acknowledged her with a raised eyebrow.  “And why would we believe that?”

Of everyone in the room, Leliana was the only one who had lowered her weapons.  She hadn’t sheathed them yet, and Wynn had no doubt that she was still just as lethal with them lowered, but she was at least giving Wynn a chance to be heard.

“If you know anything about the Thorn Coalition,” Wynn began, “then you know that we rely on guerrilla tactics.  Quick strikes against small groups of Templars. That, or we send in a couple of spies in order to scout out Circle Towers that we intend to liberate - not that many of them still need it.  But those times are few and far between, take months of planning, and when we do attack it’s in the night, when we won’t be seen coming. Using the Thorn Coalition for a direct attack - it’s suicide.”

“She has a point,” Leliana said, looking first at Vivienne, then Cassandra.  “They have been consistently using those tactics.”

“What’s more,” Cullen jumped in, “our attackers aren’t mages.  They wear armor and carry swords - we’ve been able to figure out that much.”

“We need to know more,” Leliana said, finally sheathing her daggers.  “Vivienne, Cassandra - bring Wynn.”

Wynn blinked, glancing at Cassandra and Vivienne.  Both looked as though they wanted to argue, but to her surprise, they exchanged glances before Cassandra grabbed her by the arm, still keeping her sword at her neck.  As Rage finally settled back into a more docile state, letting Wynn feel like she could breathe again, she felt Cassandra’s power settle over her like a heavy blanket.

Her perceptions of the world around her became muted, and her steps began to drag.  She couldn’t afford to let them drag, however, not with the speed at which Vivienne and Cassandra frog-marched her out of the Chantry and through Haven.

Onlookers were huddled together in groups.  The air of cheerfulness had gone, replaced by anxiety.  It wasn’t enough of a distraction to stop people from noticing the way Wynn was being restrained.  She saw people pull their stares away from the direction of Haven’s gates and towards her instead, and saw the way people bent their heads together to whisper to one another.  

“Isn’t that one of the Heralds?” one was saying.  “Why are they holding her like she’s a prisoner?”

Passing by the part of Haven inhabited predominantly by the mages caused even more confusion.  Several faces froze, their eyes widening at the sight of her. Or maybe they were able to sense Cassandra’s magic block on her.  Either way, they didn’t take very kindly to it, judging by the way some crossed their arms and scowled. 

Solas joined their group, his face expressionless.

“Seeker,” he said.  “May I inquire as to why you have Enchanter Trevelyan captive?”

“She is DeFleur,” was all Cassandra said.

“...I see.”

Wynn narrowed her eyes.  Though she often found Solas difficult to read, she had been expecting more of a reaction than that.  The fact that he did little more than say those words made her wonder if he’d suspected her all along.

When they arrived at the gates, they were met by Dorian, Bull, and Varric, all of whom had grim looks on their faces.  Wynn could hear the roar of the army that was marching towards them - a dull clamor that still intimidated her, even though she could not see its source.

_ No word from the scouts, either, _ she thought, remembering Leliana’s surprise.   _ They’re skilled. _

“We’re not sure who they are,” Bull admitted, scowling.  “But it’s not what you’d call a small force. Even if we manage to win, this fight will still hurt us like a kick in the teeth.”

Dorian looked at him, askance.  “Do those hurt  _ you _ ?” he asked.

Bull grinned without mirth.  “Depends how hard the kick is.”

One of the guards from a nearby watchtower hurried over and gave his report to Cullen.  Wynn shifted where she stood, stiffening when Cassandra moved the blade of her sword a little bit closer.

“I can’t tell you anything useful if I can’t see them,” Wynn pointed out.  “Are we going to go out there or not?”

Cassandra tightened her grip on Wynn’s arm, but before she could say anything, someone from behind the gate cried, “Hello?”

The sound put a halt to all conversation happening.  Cullen and Leliana exchanged glances. Cassandra’s grip slackened, but only slightly.

“Please!  I came to warn you!”

Leliana glanced at Wynn.  “One of yours?”

Wynn shook her head.  “I don’t recognize that voice.”

Leliana nodded, then strode forward and unbarred the gate, pulling it open.  A young man stood a few feet outside it, standing over a body, blood dripping from his dual daggers.  A sense of strangeness struck Wynn at the sight of him, but the thing that caught her attention wasn’t him, but the body itself.

Whatever it was, it might have been human, once.  Red crystals creeped their way up its arms, one protruding from one of its eyes.  Its skin was too pale to be natural, and its veins shone stark red through the skin.  Wynn’s skin crawled at the sight, and her stomach turned over when she saw the crest emblazoned upon his armor.

She felt, more than saw, Cassandra flinch.

“That’s a Templar,” Leliana identified.

“Yes,” the boy said.  “The Templars. Red Templars.  They are coming here. For the Heralds.”

“ _ Red _ Templars?” Cassandra choked out.

“They took the lyrium,” the boy said.  “Think nothing of it. Lyrium is what templars take.  But it burns - can’t stand the way it moves through my veins, eating up everything, a growing pit of nothing in my middle.  So hungry, but can’t eat, can’t feel warmth anymore - I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.”

No one seemed to know what to say to that.

“Red lyrium?”  Varric was the first to react.  “You’re saying we’re being attacked by an army of Templars who are on red lyrium?”

“I’m not just saying it,” the boy said.  “It’s happening.”

The boy looked around the group, his eyes eventually landing on Cassandra.  “The Herald. One of the Heralds. And the other -  _ oh _ .  Bitter blackness, burning in my gut, never completely gone - how does it stay docile?  Sometimes it claws to get out, leaves scratches on my insides - “

Wynn winced.

“Betrayal, can’t see the way forward - what is the truth?”  The boy visibly shook himself. “No, no - there is no time.”

“All right,” Cullen said, snapping everyone out of the trance that the boy’s words had put them in.  “We need to get the trebuchets armed and firing as soon as possible.” He started barking orders, through the gates, and moments later soldiers wearing Inquisition armor were rushing out, some heading to the trebuchet straight ahead, others running for the southern trebuchet.  Wynn kept her eye on the boy, noting how he slipped through the gates, and how no one seemed to notice.

“Cassandra,” Cullen said.  “I need you to help cover the trebuchets.  These Red Templars aren’t going to ignore them.  Vivienne, escort DeFleur to the - “

“I want to help,” Wynn interrupted.

All eyes turned to her.  Some were incredulous, others thoughtful.  It wasn’t hard for her to figure out which was which.

“How can we trust you to help?” Leliana asked.  

Wynn shifted her feet and breathed out, making eye contact with Leliana.  “You’re already holding two of my people hostage. I care about them. You have leverage against me, and your leverage means that I have a vested interest in seeing the Inquisition succeed in this particular matter.  I don’t want to know what these Templars would do to them.”

“The Elder One is angry,” Cole said.  “You stole his mages.”

Wynn felt a cold trickle down her spine at those words, and glanced over at the mountains across the lake.  In the distance, she could make out a tall, red figure, towering over its troops. 

Rage shrunk down further than it ever had before.  It left her truly feeling the chill of the Frostback Mountains, for the first time.

“Please,” she said again, voice trembling.

“I hate to say it, but she’s right,” Cullen said.  “We need all the help we can get, and we do have leverage against her.  My gut is telling me to let her help, this once.”

Wynn couldn’t see Cassandra’s face.  She held her breath, aware of Cassandra on one side and Vivienne on the other side.  She felt Cassandra’s sword shaking where it was pressed against her throat; by some miracle, the blade didn’t nick her.

The sword lifted from her throat, and Cassandra stepped away, lowering it back down to her side.  She did not turn her gaze away from Wynn, and Wynn did not look back at her. She didn’t want to see what was in Cassandra’s eyes at that moment.

“Vivienne,” Leliana said, “would you please go and keep an eye on the prisoners.”

Wynn turned her head in time to catch Vivienne’s gaze, and to see her slow nod.  “No harm will come to them,” she said to Leliana, though her eyes remained on Wynn as she did so.  “Not unless they or DeFleur necessitate it.”

It was both a warning and a promise, and Wynn nodded once.  Vivienne inclined her head before turning and heading back towards the Chantry, the soldiers hurrying around parting for her like waves.

Air rushed into Wynn’s lungs; she was surprised by how much easier it was to breathe, before she realized that it was because she had access to her magic once again.  Rage was more reluctant to return, barely an ember deep inside her mind. She paid it no mind; she didn’t need it, for the moment.

“Cassandra,” Leliana said.  “Take Wynn and cover the south trebuchet.  “Varric, go with them. Bull, Dorian - with me.  We’ll take this one.”

Leliana unsheathed her daggers, giving them an experimental twirl, and nodded at Cullen before jogging towards the nearest trebuchet, which was already bristling with other Inquisition soldiers.  Bull hurried after her, but Dorian paused for a moment to look between Cassandra and Wynn.

“Try not to kill each other,” he said.  “I’d miss you both terribly.”

Wynn began running for the southern trebuchet without waiting for Varric or Cassandra, grabbing her staff from its harness as she went.  It wasn’t long before she was able to see the weapon in the distance. There was movement and shouting, and she could see flecks of red among the armor of the Inquisition soldiers.  

She moved into the Fade, and emerged from it on top of a massive Red Templar.

Wynn didn’t think twice; with a loud yell she summoned her spirit blade into her hand, thrusting it straight through the monster’s head.  She barely had time to wrap her head around the fact that the behemoth used to be a human being before she and it were both tumbling to the ground, with her on top.  It didn’t move, and she dissipated her blade, turning to create a wall of fire between herself and three templars that tried to rush her.

One of them quickly fell to a crossbow bolt in his back - most likely Varric.  Cassandra, meanwhile, roared as she threw herself into another knot of templars a couple meters away.  Wynn made sure to immolate the two attacking her before she stepped back into the Fade, rushing through them and one of the templars in the knot Cassandra was fighting.  She came out behind another and ran him through.

The trebuchet fired a shot, and occasionally she could hear the distant booms signifying that the other trebuchet was firing.  More and more red templars were swarming their trebuchet in spite of this, and Wynn found herself fade-stepping left and right, helping the Inquisition soldiers when she could and avenging them when she couldn’t.  One of the templars nicked her in the arm as she passed, and she hissed, but before she could really register the pain -

Rage roared to life, suddenly blazing where it had been almost dormant.  She cried out as it burned through the wound, and when she looked at it next, she saw that it had been cauterized.  

_ What was that for? _ she wondered.  Rage had never bothered with her wounds before.

The answer soon became apparent - she didn’t get to one Inquisition soldier in time, and saw him get scratched under his armpit.  He killed the red templar attacking him, but he started screaming as red lyrium burst forth from under his skin, beginning to crystallize him.

“Shit!” yelled Wynn, hurrying forward.  Before she could do anything, one of his fellows had run him through, grimacing.

“We can’t do anything for them!” she yelled.  “I’m sorry Herald, but the best we can do is not get touched by the stuff.”

Unless they had something that would burn it out of them, and Wynn doubted that any of the rest of them did.  She had no doubt that Varric was being careful, as he knew about the effects of red lyrium better than any of them, but she fade-stepped back over to Cassandra, just to make sure.

Cassandra had made it up on to the platform and was defending the soldiers crewing the trebuchet as best as she could.  Wynn took only a second to ascertain that she was alright before she dove back into the fray. 

This kind of battle - a seemingly never-ending stream of templars, being constantly on the move, pushing her power to the limits - it was the kind of thing that Wynn would never have attempted before.  With Rage now on full alert, however, she had a nearly endless stream of energy, and there wasn’t a single red templar that was able to stop her. She managed to keep her wits about her enough to distinguish friend from foe, but the notion that she was playing a dangerous game was a distant one.

The bells of Haven cut through her concentration, and she recognized them as signaling a retreat.  She forced herself to focus, fighting back Rage as she cut a path for the trebuchet crew and Cassandra to get back to Haven.  She erected multiple walls of fire on their way back to the gates, and didn’t let herself stop to think until they were through and the doors to Haven had boomed shut behind them.

They weren’t out of the woods yet; she had to take a few moments to force Rage back to its usual simmer, and even then the fire was still too close to shooting out her fingertips for comfort.  She clenched her hands into fists, keeping them from trembling.

“Did one of them land a hit?”

It was Varric.  He was staring at her arm, at the visible wound.  Wynn nodded.

“Shit,” he said.  “You need to - “

“It’s fine,” Wynn interrupted.  “It’s - the infection was burned out of me before it could get any further.”

Varric’s eyes widened.  He was smart, Wynn knew.  He’d managed to put two and two together.  Before he could say anything, however, Cassandra and Cullen walked over.

“We still have to win this,” Cullen warned them.  “But I think we might have a chance, if we can just - “

Wynn clapped her hands over her ears as something - a cross between a shriek and a roar - tore through the air.  A shadow flew overhead, followed by another roar, and Wynn could barely make out the shape of - 

Was that a  _ dragon _ ?

It spat out a strange mix of fire and lightning, and Cullen shouted for people to take cover as the miasma smashed into several of Haven’s buildings.  Screams erupted, and the sinking feeling Wynn had in her gut was confirmed by Cassandra yelling, “It’s targeting civilians!”

“We need to get everyone into the Chantry,” Cullen said, before he ran away, bellowing orders as loudly as he could.  Wynn didn’t waste any time, fade-stepping towards the nearest affected building (the tavern, oh god,  _ Flissa _ ) and wishing that she had a better hold on ice magic.

She managed to pull Flissa from the wreckage, but the bartender had a broken leg, so she handed her off to Bull, who already had another injured civilian under his arm.  She worked as quickly as she could, flitting between the burnings buildings, always wincing when the dragon flew overhead and dealt more damage. 

“How are we going to win?” Adan demanded, after she pulled him from the apothecary.  “If they have  _ that  _ thing?”

“Just get to the Chantry,” Wynn replied, shoving him away.

Minaeve was next, and Wynn’s heart started thudding as she approached the unmoving body, but there was still a pulse.  She breathed a sigh of relief, and got her to a couple of Inquisition soldiers, who said they would carry her into the Chantry.

After it became clear that they’d saved as many as they could, she sprinted for the Chantry as well.  She was knocked off her feet by another blast from the dragon, but managed to regain her balance and throw herself through the doors.  She winced as she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground, but she barely felt it as the stone scraped against her hands. 

She lay their for a few seconds, listening as the Chantry doors clanged shut, before she swore and pushed herself to her feet.

The Chantry was in chaos, nothing like it had been earlier, when Vivienne and Leliana had confronted her.  The injured were all gathered in one corner near the back of the room, with healers and mages hurrying to help them.  The rest of the non-combatants were huddled together in groups, speaking to one another fearfully. There was a simultaneous flinch every time the monster outside roared again.  

The sight of Cole caught her attention, and she realized that he was crouched next to a badly injured Chancellor Roderick.  She made her way towards the two.

“Herald,” Roderick croaked, looking almost happy to see her.  “Good - you and the Seeker both survived the battle. You’ll be needed.”

“She doesn’t believe you,” Cole said.

“She should,” Roderick said, more firmly.  He leaned forward. “Herald - there is a chance.  Perhaps I was put here by the Maker, to help you and the Inquisition.”

Wynn held up a hand.  “Cassandra and Cullen need to be here for this.  Leliana too, probably.”

“There isn’t enough time.  I’m the only one here who’s done the summer pilgrimage.  There is a passage that leads out of Haven, and into the mountains.  I can lead the Inquisition through it.”

Wynn froze, the news hitting her like a ton of bricks, then she scrambled up onto her feet, looking around wildly until she spotted Cassandra, Cullen, and Leliana gathered by one of the altars.  

“Hey!” she shouted, making several people near her jump, but it got their attention, so she didn’t care.  She waved them over, grateful when they actually listened to her. 

The consequences of her actions were being delayed, it would seem.

“What is it?” Leliana asked.

Wynn let Roderick explain, stepping away from the conversation but still listening in on it.  She felt a sudden wave of exhaustion, now that Rage was no longer at the forefront of her mind, and she had to lean on her staff for support.  She found herself wishing that she could sit down, if only for a few moments.

“Why did you help us?”

Unwittingly, Wynn raised her eyes to meet Cassandra’s stare.  She didn’t see any of the anger or disappointment that she’d feared, but that might have been because she couldn’t decipher Cassandra’s expression at all, at that moment.  

“I told you why,” she said.  

“No, you didn’t,” Cassandra retorted.  “None of us would have thought to order you to fight, but you volunteered anyway.  I want to know why.”

Wynn looked away and said nothing.  She wasn’t about to admit that she was no longer sure of the reason, either.

“Fine,” Cassandra said, tone brittle.  “I suppose how difficult you always were was not a lie.”

Those words felt like a punch in the gut to Wynn, but she didn’t have time to process them.  

“Here’s the plan,” Cullen was saying.  “We need someone to get out to the inner trebuchet, turn it towards Haven, and fire on the mountain above us.  We’ll bury Haven, but we’ll bury at least part of the Elder One’s army along with it. That way the rest of the Inquisition will have a chance of escaping through the path Roderick described.”

“Who would we send?” Leliana asked.  “They’d have to strong enough to get to the Trebuchet, and they’d have to be noticeable enough for the Elder One to take the bait and focus on them while the rest of us escape.”

“Me.”

Wynn, whose mouth had been open to say that very word, turned and gaped at Cassandra, who had spoken first.  “It will have to be me,” Cassandra continued. “This Elder One wants the Mark, does he not? Then he can come and get it.”

“Out of the question!” Cullen snapped.

“He’s right,” Wynn agreed, somehow managing to keep her tone level.  “I’m the obvious choice.”

Cassandra folded her arms.  “I see nothing obvious about that.”

Wynn flung her arm out gesturing around the Chantry.  “I’m not the one these people need! Even if I live through this battle - regardless of the help I’ve given, any trust they had in me has been broken.  If they don’t already know, then they will soon. But if I go, and you stay - they won’t have to lose faith in you, Cassandra.”

Cassandra didn’t appear to have a retort ready for that.  She simply stared at Wynn.

“I agree with Wynn,” Cullen said, swallowing.  “I - I was also going to suggest her.”

“As was I,” Leliana said quietly.

Wynn looked down at her feet.  She knew that both Cullen and Leliana would have calculated the political advantage of who to send.  It made sense; sending her would eliminate any responsibility they had to dealing with her being DeFleur, and it wouldn’t demoralize the Inquisition to know that someone who was thought to be their enemy had sacrificed herself for the cause.  Meanwhile, Cassandra, who had been a steadfast leader in all of this, would live on, and continue the fight.

“No,” Cassandra said, after a long moment.  “ _ No _ .  I do not accept this.  Either I go with her, or neither of us goes.”

“Cassandra - “ Leliana began.

“No, Leliana!” she snapped.  “The Mark is useless without the both of us present!  This is what  _ has  _ to happen - I can feel it in my bones.  I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Wynn suddenly found herself wanting to ask Cassandra the very same question she’d just asked her -  _ why _ ?  She didn’t argue against Cassandra’s point, though, knowing that doing so was futile.  She knew how stubborn Cassandra could be.

When no one else spoke, she said, “If we’re going to go, we should go soon.”

“Agreed.”

Wynn turned to Leliana.  “Evert and Harama - treat them well.  Please.”

Leliana bowed her head.  

Wynn knew she wasn’t going to have time to say goodbye to anyone else.  She swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat at the thought, and focused only on her Rage, bringing it back up to the surface.  She was going to need every bit of it for this. 

She exchanged nods with Cassandra, and the two of them headed for the doors.

* * *

 

The night air was oppressive.

It settled over Wynn the moment they stepped out of the Chantry.  It was a feeling that she’d only had near the Breach, and she hated that she had to feel it again.  Hatred was good, though - something she could focus on. Something that would keep Rage fueled and happy, or as happy as Rage could get.

They encountered only a few red templars on their way to the trebuchet, and there were none near it.  They worked as quickly as they could, with Wynn casting a spell to lift the ammo into place and Cassandra positioning the trebuchet.  Wynn beat back a few small groups of red templars that tried to attack, but the main force seemed to now be more focused on the town itself, and they went relatively unnoticed.  

That changed with one hair-raising shriek.

Wynn dove out of the way just in time to avoid a stream of red lightning, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rising.  She rolled into a crouch, miraculously keeping her staff in her hand, and quickly cast an immolate spell on the dragon.

It let out an enraged roar as its left wing caught fire, but it didn’t lose altitude.  Wynn swore and fade-stepped away as it targeted her again, only for a vice grip to yank her back out of the Fade, knocking the wind out of her.

The thing kept its grip on her arm, and she was lifted so that she was face-to-face with one of the most hideous visages she’d ever seen.

“So,” the Elder One sneered.  “This is one of the famous ‘Heralds’, I suppose.”

He flung her away, hard enough that she hit her head on the ground, hard.  She tried to suck air into her lungs, but found herself gasping for breath.

“A mere mage,” he hissed, circling her.  She prayed that he hadn’t noticed Cassandra yet.  “An apostate, from what my spies tell me. Powerful by your pitiful standards, I suppose, but still unworthy of the Anchor.”

“Is that what it’s called?” Wynn managed to get out.

“Of course,” the Elder One replied.  “Not that you would know, filth.”

Wynn forced herself onto all fours, then up onto her feet.  “What’s your name then, ugly?”

He scowled.  “I am called Corypheus.  I suppose it is only fair that you know, Wynnedred Trevelyan.  And where is the Lady Pentaghast?”

The dragon screeched again, and Wynn’s heart froze as she realized it was now next to the trebuchet.  Its tail lashed out, crashing into Cassandra and sending her flying towards Wynn. She rolled to a stop a few feet away, looking as winded as Wynn had been a few minutes ago.

“And now that you are both here...”

Wynn noticed, for the first time, that Corypheus was holding an orb.  He aimed it toward them.

It was pain like nothing she’d felt before.  Her hand spasmed, and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.  She fell to her knees, aware that Cassandra was screaming next to her.  She couldn’t escape from the pain, no matter how she tried to twist away from it - it felt like her skin was turning inside out -

Abruptly, it stopped.

“Useless!” shouted Corypheus.  “The Anchor is too deeply bound to you both, now.  You must be disposed of.”

He raised a hand, no doubt about to cast some horrible spell.  Wynn’s mind raced. Neither of them would last long against the combined strength of Corypheus and his dragon, but there was a chance.  A small one, but a chance, nonetheless.

She closed her eyes, and let the walls she had around Rage fall away.

It had only happened once before, and it felt as strange as it had the first time.  The last remnants of pain were wiped out as fire suffused her, and she felt her exhaustion fade.  She was dimly aware that she’d grown taller, and that she’d surprised Corypheus, but she didn’t focus on that.  Rage let out a roar through her, and then flames burst from her hands, shooting straight at Corypheus and the dragon.

_ Anger-pain-anger-pain-why-did-she-die-whydidshedie- _

The voice of the demon was clear in her head, for once, but she paid it no mind.  Wynn was only fire, now, and it was easier than it should’ve been to block Corypheus’ spells and the dragon’s flame.  But they were getting closer every time, and her flames seemed to do nothing to them. It frustrated her, which fueled her further.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Cassandra had made it to the trebuchet.  At the same moment, one of Corypheus’ spells hit her squarely in the chest.

It only took that one hit for all her pain and exhaustion to return, and Rage went from being everything she was to that tiny ember once more.  The change was jarring, and she gasped out as she felt her power leave her, and just barely had enough energy left to fade-step over to Cassandra.

Cassandra, thankfully, chose that moment to set off the trebuchet.

The resounding boom was followed by another roar - the roar of an avalanche, this time, as tons of snow came rushing down the mountain to meet them.  Wynn didn’t think - she just turned and ran, as fast as she could, noticing that Cassandra was running parallel to her. 

There was a hole in the ground ahead of them - if they could just - 

The ground stared to rumble beneath Wynn’s feet.  She diverted slightly so that she was right next to Cassandra, then put the last of her energy into a momentum spell, sending Cassandra flying forward towards the opening in the ground.

If she could just - 

The avalanche collided with her back, and everything went black.


	13. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Labor Day! Thank you all for your patience with this chapter. I've been having some recurring health issues lately, and it's made getting motivated to write difficult. I finally feel like I'm on the mend, so I was able to double down and get this out there. Enjoy!

When Cassandra awoke, the side of her face was numb.

Her hand was as well.  Though her glove provided some protection from the snow, her gauntlet only accentuated the cold, as did the rest of her armor.  She reasoned that she must not have been unconscious for very long, or her entire right side would’ve had no feeling. 

The more alarming part was that she couldn’t see.  There was nothing but snow beneath her, and darkness all around.  She sat up slowly, pausing to see if she was injured in any way, and was relieved to find that, apart from a few sore muscles, she felt none the worse for wear.  

She took off her gauntlet and glove and massaged feeling back into her right hand, wincing at the sensation of needles poking at her from the inside out.  Once she had her range of motion back, she replaced the glove and gauntlet and felt around herself for... something. A wall, maybe.

The snow seemed to be piled up behind her, packed tightly.  Even standing she couldn’t reach the top of the drift, so she guessed that it was the avalanche that had caused the pile-up - most likely plugging up the hole she’d fallen through.  The last thing she remembered was getting one glimpse of Wynn, running beside her, before something invisible shoved her from behind into the hole.

_ Wynn. _

That was enough to jolt herself out of her thoughts, and she spun back towards the snow drift.  As far as she knew, Wynn hadn’t been propelled into the cave with her - did that mean - ?

As if in answer to her thoughts, Cassandra’s Mark flared.  The faint green light was enough to give her her first view of the cave, and the light stayed long enough for her to see an arm sticking awkwardly out of the snow drift, near the bottom of the pile.

Cassandra fell to her knees next to Wynn, scooping out armfuls of snow, taking care not to disturb the snow drift too much.  It was slower going than she would’ve liked; she had to work from the top down to ensure that more snow didn’t fall and ruin her work.  Eventually she managed to unearth Wynn’s torso, and then her head, which enabled her to quickly pull her the rest of the way out. There was a small rushing sound as more snow fell onto the spot where Cassandra and Wynn had just been.

Wynn’s pulse was slow, but it was there.  She must’ve been lucky enough to have a pocket of air to breathe in.  She was freezing, however, and Cassandra knew that it was dangerous for her to be unconscious.

Wynn often boasted about her warming spells and how useful they were - if Cassandra could just get her to wake up - 

A quick slap to the face proved fruitless, and Cassandra sighed.  In her head she went over her cold weather training, as well as her knowledge of medicine.  She didn’t know how severe Wynn’s injuries were, so moving her was out of the question. The cave floor seemed to at least be dry, which was more than she would’ve hoped for originally.  

Cassandra didn’t allow herself time to overthink it.  Careful not to jostle Wynn too much, she started unbuckling her armor, then removing it, before doing the same to herself.  She faltered slightly, feeling a bit mortified as she thought of what Wynn might say, if she were conscious, but Cassandra quickly wiped that thought from her mind, methodically removing Wynn’s clothing, as well as her own.

She left their smallclothes on, intent on preserving at least some of their modesty, before she laid down next to Wynn, pulling her into her arms.  Knowing that extremities were in the most danger, she positioned Wynn’s hands so that they were pressed in between the two of them, and tried at least keep Wynn’s feet pressed up against her legs, though that was significantly more challenging.

Wynn didn’t react at all, not as a person normally would if they were merely sleeping.  Cassandra’s throat tightened.

There wasn’t much she could do besides drape her clothes over the two of them - hers, at least, were somewhat dry.  It left gaps, through which the cold air bit at her skin, but it was far better than nothing.

Cassandra was in no danger of falling asleep herself.  Now that she’d done everything she could to ensure their survival, her mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.  Corypheus, his... dragon, or whatever it was, Wynn, the fact that Wynn was possessed by a demon...

It was difficult to wrap her mind around it.  

Cassandra hadn’t even had five seconds to deal with the fact that Wynn was DeFleur, let alone that she was an abomination.  An abomination that could somehow control herself - and Cassandra’s mind latched onto that mystery before she could start to process her emotions surrounding it all.  

Most of the time, abominations lost their bodies to the demons immediately after possession.  The closest similarity that Cassandra could think of was Anders, but judging from the reports she had read, he had still been extremely unstable, even before he blew up the Chantry.  Wynn was often angry, it was true, but no angrier than Cassandra herself had once been - or so it had seemed.

There had been the sense of wrongness, of course - Cassandra now knew that it was what she usually sensed when an abomination was near her, but she had dismissed it.  After all, Wynn had always seemed fully cognizant of herself. 

Except when she hadn’t been.

The alternate future.  Or, what Cassandra hoped was merely an alternate future.  In it, Wynn had been unstable and acted... well, not unlike the descriptions of Anders’ behavior in Kirkwall.  There had been the ‘experiments’ that everyone had mentioned, but not gone into detail on. Could Corypheus have been experimenting on Wynn because she was an abomination, and not because he wanted her on red lyrium, as Cassandra had first assumed?

And then, there had been the roar of a rage demon she’d heard outside the doors - the one that made Leliana smile.  That was a roar that she now recognized, as it was the same one that had come from Wynn after she’d... transformed. 

That was the only way she could think to describe what she had seen.  Wynn had been somewhere between human and rage demon, her entire body twisted and wrapped in flames.  

It shouldn’t have been possible, but after Corypheus managed to hit her with one of his spells, she’d shrunk back down to normal, so quickly that Cassandra wondered if she’d imagined the transformation.  Her eyes hadn’t even been glowing as she ran towards Cassandra and the trebuchet, and the demon certainly didn’t seem to be affecting her now, or Cassandra suspected that skin-to-skin contact wouldn’t be necessary.

How, then?  How was it that Wynn had so much control over the demon?  A ‘stable’ abomination was unheard of in the history of the Chantry, much less one who had had this kind of control for... weeks, at the very least.  Though, considering how good Wynn was at hiding it, Cassandra realized that she could very well have been possessed for years. She had no way of knowing.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, wrapped around Wynn, trying to think of an answer.  At some point she was startled out of her thoughts by a sharp inhale, then a decidedly unhappy groan.

“The fuck,” slurred Wynn.  

Cassandra disentangled herself from Wynn, still careful not to move too much.  “You may have a concussion. I’m not certain.”

Wynn grumbled again.  Another flicker from Cassandra’s hand showed that Wynn was blinking, probably attempting to see something in the darkness.  The light faded, but not before Wynn said, “Why aren’t we dressed? I think I’d remembered getting undressed.”

“Not when you were unconscious,” Cassandra said.

“Ah.  I suppose not, then.”

“You were buried in snow, and therefore freezing.  This was the most expedient way to warm you up.”

A pause, then: “Thank you.”

Cassandra was both relieved and concerned - relieved because Wynn did not seem to hold her actions against her, and concerned because it was the perfect opportunity for an innuendo of some kind, and Wynn had never before turned down the chance to use one.  She noticed, during the next flicker from their hands, that Wynn was shivering, and resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her again.

“Can you move?” she asked.

There was a shuffling noise, a grunt, then a weak laugh.  “No.”

Cassandra let out a breath.  “Any idea where you are injured?”

“Maybe - hang on, I’m going to use a heating spell - “

Cassandra nodded, about to sit back and let Wynn warm herself up, but a hand gripped her wrist, startling her.  Warmth started pulsating from the area, making her feeling like she was sitting in a hot spring. The sensation wasn’t uncomfortable, though when Cassandra reached out to grasped the edge of her cloak, which was lying beside her, she thought she could see steam rising from it.

“How long have we been here?” Wynn asked, her voice wavering.

“I am uncertain.  A few hours, perhaps.”

“You should get going.  I can dry off your things, but I can’t - “

“I did not save your life just to leave you behind,” Cassandra snapped.

“I have a broken leg,” Wynn said.  “And - there’s something wrong with my ribs.  I can barely breathe - feels like I’ve been stabbed - “

“Can you use your rage demon?”

Judging by the sharp intake of breath, Wynn had not been expecting Cassandra to say that.  She wasn’t sure why she had - it was a long shot, and went against nearly every instinct drilled into her during her Seeker training.  But there was a small chance that she could get them both out of this and - and -

“Why would you ask me that?” Wynn whispered, wheezing.

Cassandra swallowed.  “You saved my life. After everything, you still - I am not letting you die.”

Wynn let out a curse word - something in Qunlat - before she eventually answered again.

“I can’t use it to heal,” she said.  “It doesn’t work like that. Demons don’t... they don’t do that.  But if I bring it forward, keep it near the surface - it would keep me alive indefinitely.  I still won’t be able to move, though - the pain is excruciating, and Rage won’t keep it out.”

“If I carry you, and we can find the Inquisition,” Cassandra said.  “Then you might stand a chance.”

Wynn let out another cough.  “I might. It’s still going to hurt like a bitch, though.  And I can’t guarantee that I’ll keep control over it.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Cassandra told her, not needing to ask what ‘it’ was.  Her mark flickered once again, revealing that Wynn’s face was set in pain and determination. “Here is the plan: I will help you back into your things.  Your armor, I’m afraid, will need to be left behind. When that is done, then use the demon, and we will start to make our way out of this cave.”

“Alright.”

It wasn’t the best plan, Cassandra knew, but it was the only one she had.

Wynn was coherent enough to dry off everything except for Cassandra’s armor.  She was grateful once she finished pulling everything on, feeling truly warm for the first time and feeling like they might stand a chance.  Helping Wynn into her clothes made her hiss in pain more than once, and Cassandra grimaced, wondering if she had made the damage worse when she got her out of them earlier.

“Very well,” Wynn said, her voice a bit stronger.  Cassandra started when she realized she could see Wynn’s eyes glowing faintly through the darkness.  “I’m ready.”

Cassandra knew that it was going to hurt no matter what she did, so she moved as quickly as she could, hoisting Wynn over her shoulder, leaving one hand free.  To Wynn’s credit, she only let out a short groan of pain, though her breath came hissing out through her teeth from then on. 

It still felt like the going was far too slow - every step seemed to take hours, and she could only use the mark on her hand as a light.  They made their way through a series of caverns, and eventually Cassandra noticed that each was lighter than the last. Wynn was burning like a furnace into her shoulder, and unnatural heat that Cassandra knew came from the rage demon.  She half-expected Wynn to burst into flames at any moment, but that moment did not come.

Finally, she glimpsed what she thought could be an opening to the outside world ahead - just as the world exploded into green in front of her.

“Not now!” she shouted, frustrated.  Three demons - two despair, one terror - materialized before them, all far closer than she would have liked.  Cassandra scrambled to draw her sword, but realized that even with it she stood little chance against the demons.  Wynn stirred feebly on her shoulder, but no flames erupted from beneath the demons. All of her power was being concentrated on staying alive.

Cassandra felt a scream building in her throat.  It couldn’t end here - not when they’d come so far, surviving Corypheus and an avalanche and the cold.  They  _ couldn’t  _ be killed by a few demons.

She almost noticed the power building in her hand too late.  Desperately, she thrust her arm forward, and her jaw dropped when another rift opened above the demons.

Rather than spitting more demons out, however, it appeared to be pulling these back  _ in _ .  The demons screamed and writhed in pain, clawing towards Cassandra but pulled inexorably backwards.  Cassandra watched as they all dissolved before her very eyes, leaving nothing but silence.

“What was that?” she asked.  Wynn didn’t answer. 

Cassandra looked at her marked hand, which pulsated almost comfortingly now, as though reassuring her.  The idea of weaponizing rifts had never occurred to her, and now she suddenly, instinctively knew that she would be able to do so again, if she only concentrated.  How was that possible?

_ It is a matter for a later time, _ she told herself, and started for the mouth of the cave.

Outside, she encountered howling winds and snow, battering her face.  She grimaced, barely able to see ahead of her, but forced herself to take one step, then another.  One foot then the next, towards a destination she did not know, towards a hope that seemed to be dwindling in the face of this storm.  The only thing that kept her from shivering was Wynn, who was still burning, still somehow enduring, in spite of the pain Cassandra knew she had to be in.  

Stopping was not an option.  She kept going, even when her legs felt like they might fall off, even when the snow drifts went up to her thigh and snow started soaking through her trousers.  Even when the storm finally stopped, and all that was left was wading through the snow, she did not dare stop to rest. 

She barely had time to identify the remains of a campfire as being recent.  She kept moving, almost of her own accord. 

Cassandra did not know how long she kept moving through the storm.  She did not know how she did it. She just knew that she had to do it, and that she could not stop.

It wasn’t until she could see figures up ahead, illuminated by torchlight, that she finally halted.  She set Wynn down carefully in the snow, hearing shouts that meant she’d been spotted. Her eyes met Wynn’s as she looked down at her, seeing steam rise up from where Wynn lay in the snow.  Wynn’s eyes were glowing orange, and her face was ashen.

Hands were suddenly there, reaching to lift Wynn away, and Cassandra found herself batting at them, attempting to keep them away from Wynn.  She watched, horrified, as the tiniest of smiles appeared on Wynn’s face, and the glow faded from her eyes.

“ _ No _ !” she shouted.

“Cassandra!” came a voice close to her ear, and she found herself looking at Leliana instead.  “It’s all right. The healers will take her - Solas says she can still be saved - “

“Don’t let them hurt her,” Cassandra managed to get out.  “She saved my life. Don’t let them - “

Leliana’s expression changed from one of worry to one of fierce determination.  “I won’t. Don’t worry. You’re safe now. You both are.”

Comforted by the voice of her closest friend, she closed her eyes, finally letting the darkness take her.

* * *

 

Waking up was even more unpleasant the second time.

Cassandra grimaced at how stiff her muscles were, finding it difficult to move.  Someone helped her to sit up, bringing a ladle of broth to her lips. She grimaced at the taste, but gulped it down eagerly, suddenly aware of how empty her stomach was.  

“Easy.”  Mother Giselle.  “You went through quite the ordeal.  You need to rest.”

Cassandra was at least able to turn her head, taking in the sight before her: campfires everywhere, people milling around, murmuring quietly.  Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, and several others - Solas and Vivienne among them - were gathered in a knot a ways away, discussing something in hushed tones.

Cassandra fell back, registering that she was lying on a cot.  It was still dark outside, but there was no wind, and no sign of Corypheus or his forces.  

“Wynn?” she asked.

“Enchanter Trevelyan is alive,” Giselle said.  “Thanks to your efforts.”

Cassandra shook her head.  “She kept herself alive,” she croaked.  “I merely brought her here.”

“Would she be alive if you had not?” Giselle asked.

Cassandra’s throat tightened, already aware of the answer.  

“One of her ribs broke and punctured her lung,” Giselle continued.  “It took Solas and two other mages almost three hours to set the rib and heal her lung, and expel the fluid from it, but they succeeded.  She will live, though I suspect her recovery will take some time. She asked after you, once it was over. She did not seem completely coherent.”

“Where is she now?” Cassandra asked.

Giselle sighed.  “Sleeping. Comfortable.  But under heavy guard. Not many have been made aware of who she is, but enough know that people are feeling disturbed.”

Remembering Wynn’s concern before they’d gone to fire the trebuchet - it felt so long ago - Cassandra asked, “What of the Thorn Coalition prisoners?”

“They are also safe,” Giselle answered.  “And also under guard.”

Cassandra nodded.  

Giselle handed her a cup with water in it, gave her a small smile, and then left, presumably to look after other patients.  Cassandra drained the water slowly, watching people move about the camp. It was the middle of the night, so most people were likely asleep, but even now an air of sorrow hung over them all like a black cloud.

The knowledge that Haven had fallen hit Cassandra.  She had no idea what the casualty count was, but she doubted it was small.  She wished that she had the strength to stand and join the others in their discussion, or to at least see for herself how Wynn was doing, but she conceded that she likely did need more rest before she tried to be up and about.

Eventually, the inner circle broke off their discussion, with Leliana and Solas heading over to Cassandra.  

“How are you feeling?” Leliana asked, perching on the edge of Cassandra’s cot.  Her voice was gentle, despite her pinched expression.

“Antsy,” Cassandra muttered.

Leliana laughed.  “You’ll be just fine, then,” she said.  Her expression became more solemn. “I need to know what happened with the Elder One.  We weren’t able to see much - just that he confronted you, then left just before the avalanche.”

Cassandra tried to piece all of her thoughts into something coherent, and was able to get out a short version of what had transpired.  The trebuchet, Wynn’s brief fight against Corypheus, Wynn saving her from the avalanche, and her saving Wynn from death - barely. She told them what Corypheus had told them: about the Anchor (or Anchors, she supposed), and his dragon.

As she spoke, she thought Solas grew paler, but dismissed it as a trick of the light.

Once Cassandra had finished her explanation, Leliana sighed.  “About as disturbing as I thought it might be,” she admitted. “We will have to discuss this further at a later point in time.  The more pressing concern is how to deal with Wynn.”

“I thought she was under guard?”

“She is,” Leliana said.  “But we’ve only let a few know about her identity as DeFleur, and even fewer are aware that she is an abomination.  To most of the Inquisition she’s still a hero, a Herald of Andraste - a title that has only been reaffirmed by her actions tonight.  They’re going to start wondering why she needs guarding. For now, I think they’re assuming she needs the extra protection, but they won’t assume that for long.”

Cassandra shook her head.  “I do not have the answer, Leliana.  She saved my life tonight, but even I cannot ignore that she is DeFleur.  Or that she is playing host to a rage demon. It is unprecedented.”

“Indeed,” Solas said quietly, speaking for the first time.  “She appears to have been possessed for years, and yet has never been fully overtaken.  It should be impossible.”

“Now is when I wish we were in touch with Hawke,” Leliana said, sighing.  “Anders is the closest person we know of to what Wynn is.”

“According to Varric, Anders was possessed by a spirit that later became a demon,” Cassandra pointed out.  “You think this is the same situation?”

“Most likely,” Solas said.

“See if you can get Varric to tell you more about him,” Cassandra said.  “Any knowledge may be helpful at this point.”

Solas bowed his head, then left, his footfalls making barely any noise.  Leliana reached out and squeezed Cassandra’s hand, shooting her a small smile, before she stood and left as well.  Others came to speak with her briefly as well, but all were quick to leave, as though they weren’t sure how to act around her anymore.  Cassandra didn’t like it - this new distance that she seemed to have from everyone.

Eventually she dozed off again, though not for very long.  It was still dark when she awoke, and she finally hauled herself off the bed after drinking another cup of water.  It was slow going, but she managed to make her way to a quieter spot, just on the edge of the camp, where the trees hid her from prying eyes.

Cassandra slowly sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands, as everything from the past few days caught up with her.  Now that the frenzied need to survive, and to help Wynn survive, had worn off, she could clearly remember the look on Wynn’s face as she’d been about to incinerate her.  She could feel the shock from Vivienne and Leliana’s words, as they revealed Wynn’s true identity to them all and revealed that one of the Inquisition’s enemies had been right beside her the entire time.

How much of it had been real?  Had any of it?

Cassandra wasn’t aware of the tears streaming down her face, or the gasping sobs she made, until someone’s hand landed on her shoulder.  She flinched, trying to scrub at her cheeks, and was surprised and mortified to see Varric next to her. For once, however, Cassandra couldn’t see a hint of mockery in his expression.

“Yeah,” he said.  “I figured it was one of those days.”

He stayed for a few more moments, while Cassandra gave up on suppressing her sobs, then left her in peace.


	14. Visitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things calm down a bit, in this chapter. Or they're as calm as they can be, when Wynn's involved (meaning not very). Enjoy!

It was the unpleasant ache in her chest that roused her.

Wynn blinked her eyes open to see darkness and incomprehensible shapes.  Event the tiniest movement made her ribs protest, and every inhale made her wince.  Rage sat like a cat somewhere in her chest, unusually quiet in spite of all the excitement from the previous few days.

There were murmurs all around her, though Wynn couldn’t see anyone else.  Eventually she was able to deduce that the darkness was actually the canvas of a tent, and she was lying on a cot with a thick blanket draped over her.  She tried to shift positions and nearly had the breath knocked out of her; with a dissatisfied grunt, she gave up trying to move.

Wynn was warm, but her exhales created small clouds in the air above her.  They were most likely somewhere in the Frostbacks, then. She tried to remember how she might have ended up there, but she couldn’t recall anything past Cassandra telling her to use Rage to keep herself alive.  She winced, thinking about how painful that would’ve been, and decided she was glad that she couldn’t remember.

The tent flap was pulled aside, letting in an elven mage that Wynn didn’t recognize - probably one of Fiona’s.  The woman was carrying something in a cup.

“You’re awake,” she observed, sounding unperturbed.

Wynn grimaced.  “Unfortunately,” she said, her voice coming out hoarser than she intended.

“It’s a good sign,” the mage countered.  “We weren’t sure you would survive. Not at first.  Do you have enough strength to hold this?”

Wynn’s arms, at least, seemed to be in perfect working order, so she took the proffered cup from the mage and held it while the mage helped her sit up.  Her ribs screamed in protest, but Wynn ignored them in favor of drinking down the potion, grimacing at the taste. It was exactly the sort of remedy that one of her healers might have given her, after a fight with some templars.

“Thank you,” she said, once the cup was emptied.  

The mage nodded.  “The brew will ease some of the pain and make it easier for you to sleep properly,” she explained.  “What you’ve been doing for the past few days can hardly be counted as sleep, what with your body working so hard to heal you.”

Wynn could already feel her eyelids growing heavier.  “I’ll take your word for it,” she murmured.

The mage’s expression softened.  “Sleep well, Herald,” she said. She hesitated, then, just as Wynn began to drift off, added, “Whatever the others might say, I still believe.”

* * *

 

The second time Wynn woke, she could tell immediately that they’d moved.  For one thing, the tent floor was covered in snow. For another, she was now lying in some strange approximation of a wheelbarrow - one lined with cushions, certainly, but a wheelbarrow all the same.  

It made sense.  If they were going to move her, it would be easier to do so if she was unconscious (for her, and for them).  

Moving around was a bit easier this time.  It still hurt like hell, but she found that she could sit up a little.  There was some light streaming in through the tent flap, which meant that it was either early morning or nearing the end of the day.  A part of Wynn wished that she could stand up and at least feel the sun on her face, regardless of how cold it probably was outside.

The tent flap stirred again, and the same mage entered, this time with a bowl of what looked like soup in her hands.  Wynn sat up on her own, accepting the bowl with a wordless nod of thanks, careful to only take sips of the broth and to chew any vegetables in the soup slowly.  Her stomach, which had been aching with hunger without her noticing, eased somewhat at the food, and she shot the mage a grateful smile when she finished eating.

The mage bowed her head for a moment, then left the tent with the empty bowl.  Wynn lay back on her makeshift bed, listening to the sounds of the camp around her and wondering what was in store for her.  A trial? Interrogation? Nothing she could think of sounded particularly pleasant. 

The sound of voices just outside her tent made Wynn lift her head out of curiosity, but she let it fall back with a thud after the conversation tapered off and nothing happened.  She stared up at the top of the tent, suddenly wide awake and wishing for another visitor to keep her occupied. 

Time passed, and the daylight faded.  The elven mage eventually returned with another draught; Wynn drank obediently, and let the world fade away once more.

* * *

 

Her recovery cycle continued in such a way for a few days, until Wynn was finally able to hobble around with the help of a regular walking stick.  She preferred to walk herself when they traveled, hoping to gain back her strength as quickly as possible. It didn’t escape her notice that she was guarded by no less than four Templars at all times.

This time, when the Inquisition stopped to camp, she was placed in a binding circle by several more unfamiliar mages.  It was wide enough for her to fit a bedroll in it, but not any wider, and she paced around it for a good ten minutes in the vain hope that there would be some kind of weakness.

There wasn’t any that she could find.  The mages knew what they were doing; even just holding out a hand close to the invisible barrier made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and Rage started to stir restlessly.  Wynn didn’t know much about binding circles, but she could tell that this one was meant for abominations.

She didn’t get a tent this time, and she was on the outskirts of the camp, out in the open except for her guards.  There were more than a few curious pairs of eyes on her as she set up her bedroll before sitting down on it, pulling her cloak more tightly around herself.  She was relieved to find that her warming spell still worked, welcoming the heat that flooded her system.

Footsteps crunching on the frozen ground alerted her to a visitor.  Wynn looked up, meeting Vivienne’s eyes.

They spent a long time just staring at one another, with Wynn having very little desire to actually engage in conversation.  She couldn’t sense Vivienne’s magic through the binding circle, but she knew that it must’ve be drawn in close around her, ready to strike at Wynn at any moment.  The binding circle was one-way. It wasn’t meant for her protection.

Finally, Vivienne opened her mouth.  Wynn braced herself for an incantation, or condemnation, or something that would cause the chasm between them to grow even larger, but all she said was, “How long?”

One Wynn’s brain caught up to her words, she knew exactly what Vivienne was referring to.  And since there was no reason to lie, she answered truthfully.

“Since my harrowing,” she said.  “I was fifteen.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”  Vivienne narrowed her eyes.  “From what I remember, I was trying to outwit a hunger demon.  It... took the form of my sister. Tried to convince me that I needed to give myself up for her.  I was angry enough that I figured out the ruse, but the hunger demon had already started sapping my strength, and I started to run.  I don’t know where Rage came from, or when I expressed consent, but the next thing I knew the hunger demon was burning, and it wasn’t just me who was burning it.”

Vivienne folded her arms.  “The Templars present didn’t sense  _ anything  _ wrong?”

Wynn shrugged.  “Not that I know of.  I woke up, was congratulated, and sent on my way.  None of them had a clue about what lived inside me.”

“But you did.”

There was an accusation behind Vivienne’s words.  Wynn rolled her eyes, placing her hands on the ground behind her and leaning back.  

“Yes, because I was going to go straight to Lydia and say, ‘Hello, I just wanted to let you know that I’m an abomination now, feel free to execute me whenever you like.’  I have  _ never  _ lost control of Rage, Vivienne.  Not that I knew that was possible when this all started - I just made sure that, whenever I started getting angry, I only did it near Templars, after that.”

“Of course you did,” Vivienne said.

Wynn shrugged.  “Nothing ever did happen, but it was a nice bonus when I sparred with the Templars.  Gave me a little bit of extra juice. I was much more difficult to smite - I was too fast, or too strong.  Lydia was always terrified of me, but she became even more so after that.”

“You sound so proud of that,” Vivienne said.  “Of terrifying the senior enchanter, of wanting to kill Templars.  All of that energy and drive could’ve been put towards something productive, but you’re practically destruction incarnate.  I’d hate to see those mages you’ve brainwashed.”

Wynn laughed, aware that it was an ugly sound.  “The Chantry teaches mages from the day that they’re  _ born  _ that they should hate themselves.  And you want to talk to me about brainwashing?”

“You realize that you aren’t actually denying it.”

“Everyone who followed me did so because they already shared my beliefs,” Wynn said.  “You might be able to make the argument about brainwashing for the ones at Ostwick, but I barely had any time with the mages from other circles.  They still joined.”

Those days almost felt like a dream, sometimes.  She remembered the day they left Ostwick in ruins, the days when they would take down other Towers.  She remembered promising Evert to come back alive, and him promising her the same thing in return, in spite of how unlikely it was each time.  Every skirmish they won made her a little more confident - that maybe they could make a real difference.

“A shared delusion, then,” Vivienne said.  “All of you believed that you were being wronged, somehow, when the fact of the matter is that we’re dangerous.  We  _ need  _ supervision.  We can’t always control what we do, or what we are, and that means that we need what the Circle offers.  It’s the only way we survive.”

Vivienne wasn’t arguing with her anymore, Wynn realized.  She was begging - pleading - with her to understand, to stand down and give up the fight.

“That all changed with Kirkwall,” she replied.  “The parameters for our survival were turned on their heads.  Suddenly we were too dangerous to live. Me, Evert - anyone else in the Circle who was  _ other _ , in some way.  Lydia and the Templars were planning our deaths when I led the attack on Ostwick.”

Vivienne’s eyebrows shot up, and she was silent for a few moments.  Wynn tasted bile in her throat, the memory of that day hovering a bit too closely.

“Then I understand your actions that day,” Vivienne said.  Wynn blinked in surprise, but Vivienne added, “But you have to realize that at some point, your crusade will increasingly look like the unreasonable side.  At some point, you  _ will  _ have to compromise.  I wonder if you’ll be able to swallow your pride and do what needs to be done, when that day comes.”

With a swish of her robes, Vivienne pivoted and glided away into the camp.  She took the dying light of the sun with her, causing a deep chill to fall over her, and Wynn couldn’t help but wonder if that was some kind of sign.

* * *

 

More days passed.  As the shock of ‘holy-Maker-I’m-alive’ wore off, it was replaced by trepidation.  Wynn had yet to be visited by Leliana, or Cullen, but she had no idea what the Inquisition’s plans for her were.  She was herded along by her four guards, and each night a group of mages set up the binding circle around her. She slept easily beneath the stars, a holdover from her days leading the Thorn Coalition, but she always awoke the instant someone came near.

She’d managed to find out that it was Cassandra who was leading the Inquisition further into the mountains.  A few more questions, put to the ears of sympathetic mages, revealed that Solas was guiding Cassandra. She was surprised to feel a sting of resentment at finding that out.

Having a destination brought some cheer back to the Inquisition’s forces.  From what Wynn could tell, conversation was lively - so long as it happened far away from her.  She garnered cautious (and sometimes hostile) glances and hushed whispers, already marked as a pariah to the Inquisition.  She had no way of knowing who still believed in her, as the elf mage did.

She was poking at her dinner one night, more focused on watching the sun set between two mountain peaks than eating.  Lost in thought as she was, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

“You should eat that.”

Wynn jumped, sloshing some of the stew over the side of the bowl.  She cursed, but she had nothing with which to mop it up, and let it stain her trousers.  Otherwise, she didn’t acknowledge the presence of the newcomer, until said newcomer moved around her binding circle to stand in front of her.

She looked up to see that Cassandra’s expression was impassive.  Wynn lowered her eyes again almost immediately, for once completely at a loss as to what to say.  She was happy Cassandra was alive, angry that Cassandra knew the truth, frustrated that Cassandra wasn’t doing something that made  _ sense  _ \- like having her executed, or interrogated, or contained more definitively.

Cassandra was a Seeker, through and through.  Seekers, like Templars, handled abominations one way only.

Cassandra sighed, then crouched down in front of her.  “I did not save your life just to see you starved. Eat.”

Wynn peeked at Cassandra through the fringe of her hair, then raised the spoon to her lips.  The stew was cold by now, and she grimaced slightly, but it was better than nothing. She continued eating, slowly but steadily, while Cassandra sat back, crossing her legs in a mirror of Wynn’s pose.

She didn’t speak again until the bowl was empty.

“Your guards told me you eat less and less every day.”

Wynn looked up again, meeting her eyes this time.  “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Cassandra was studying her, her eyes piercing through Wynn, so Wynn studied her in return.  Cassandra looked about as exhausted as she felt, with dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hair was wilder than Wynn had ever seen, likely from being blown about by the mountain wind.  Her braid was undone, and though Wynn couldn’t see it, she imagined the tail of hair draped down Cassandra’s back.

Finally, Cassandra said, “Capture does not suit you.”

Wynn tilted her chin upwards.  “Then free me.”

“You know that I cannot.  If not because you are DeFleur, then because we must understand the nature of your possession.”

Wynn snorted.  She’d spent nearly every second of her free time in the Circle trying to figure out why her possession was different, poring over scrolls and books in a vain attempt to discovery why.  She never found an answer, and eventually she gave up, reasoning that it had been several years and if nothing had happened by then, then nothing ever would.

“You don’t understand it any more than we do,” Cassandra said.  “Do you?”

Wynn gave a hollow laugh.  “What gave me away?”

“It’s something you do,” Cassandra told her.  “When you are frustrated. You clench your jaw, and look away.”

Wynn blinked, meeting Cassandra’s eyes again out of surprise, before she laughed.

“You know,” she said, once her chuckles had subsided.  “I was always good at reading situations - whether it was the political climate or a battle - and predicting what the outcome would be.  What other key players would do, how people would react. It was one of the reasons I was able to lead the Thorn Coalition and not, you know,  _ die _ .  But for all my apparent foresight, there was one thing I couldn’t predict.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow.  “And what was that?”

“You.”

Cassandra’s other eyebrow joined the first.

“I never thought you could be  _ this _ ,” Wynn said.  “My friend. Or at least, you were.  Before. Someone I could rely on, someone with honor.  I knew what you were, and I knew what would happen if you found out my identity, but I couldn’t help it.  After a while, I  _ wanted  _ your respect.  You were the person I wanted next to me during every fight.  I should’ve fought harder against that.”

Cassandra was quiet for a long time, her eyebrows knitted together.  Wynn suddenly felt exhausted, as though her words had been wrung out of her.  She imagined that Cassandra would leave soon, or that Cassandra would accuse her of lying in order to get her guard down, but she did neither.

Instead, she asked, “Why did you save my life?”

Wynn furrowed her brow, trying to remember.  The avalanche, throwing Cassandra into the hole.  

She hunched her shoulders.  “I didn’t want you to die.”

Those words were as honest as Wynn knew how to be, but they weren’t enough.  She felt like everything she said was being swallowed up by a chasm between them, one which only got wider with each second that Cassandra sat there, a blank expression on her face.  For a moment, Wynn was tempted to reach out and touch the barrier, just so that something would  _ happen _ .

“What about you?” she asked.  “Why did you save my life?”

Unlike Wynn’s, Cassandra’s answer was immediate.  

“I did not want you to die.”

Wynn’s mind flashed to those fevered moments in the cave, back in Haven.  When she’d woken up to feel Cassandra pressed up against her, she’d wondered for an insane moment if she’d fallen into some other world, where they didn’t have to hate one another.  Reality had caught up quickly, in the form of her ribs screaming and her difficulty breathing, but for a moment she’d hoped - 

Wynn shut down that thought before it could get any further.

“How can I believe you?”

Wynn blinked.  “Believe me about what?”

Cassandra scowled.  “How can I believe that you ever considered me a friend?  You were playing me - playing all of us - right from the very start.  Clearly you did not find your situation agreeable at first, but you were quick to turn it to your advantage.  From the highest ranks of the Inquisition, you were able to know all of our inner workings. You could have sent for the Thorn Coalition at any time.  You chose to bide your time, instead, but you could have. You were willing to kill me, the moment we found you out.”

Wynn felt some of her old anger return.  “Yes.”

“Then how can I believe you?”

Cassandra’s voice was louder, as she expressed her incredulity.  This was the doubt that Wynn had been waiting for, that she knew had to be there.  It was what she needed, to stir up her sense of defiance. The fragile moment between them was shattered.

“I said you were my friend,” Wynn said.  “I considered that real. But you were never more important than my goal.”

“Which is?”

“Right now?”  Wynn shrugged.  “Stopping Corypheus.  He’s too powerful - and dangerous - to be left alive.  But after that? It’s ensuring that mages have the freedom to choose something other than a life of seclusion in a tower, where their every move is watched and weighed.  It’s ensuring that mages aren’t slaughtered in the streets for the crime of hiding what they are, even when it’s not their fault. It’s ensuring that mages like Evert aren’t vilified because of their differences - like being Qunari, or elven.”

“What happened to you?” Cassandra demanded.  “How did you get like this?”

Wynn snorted.  “You don’t deserve to know.”

“Should I let you go, then?  Wait until your demon has enough influence over you that you start indiscriminately slaughtering people, like Anders?”

That stung more than Wynn wanted to admit.  “I am  _ not  _ Anders!” she snapped.

“No?” Cassandra asked.  “Then why are your eyes glowing?”

Wynn sucked in a breath, feeling Rage simmering close to the surface.  She pulled it back in, feeling the heat recede from her skin and ignoring its dissatisfaction with being suppressed again.  She glared at Cassandra, realizing that her hands were curled tightly into fists. She forced them to relax, settling her hands on her knees.

More quietly, she said, “I like you, Cassandra.  That’s the truth. But I hate everything you stand for.  Always have, even before I met Rage. And that’s not about to change.”

Cassandra stood abruptly, a dark look on her face.  “The Templars should have killed you,” she said. “The moment you finished your Harrowing.”

She stalked away, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword.  Wynn felt like a statue as she sat, her bowl forgotten on her lap.  Her heart was racing, but her chest felt oddly hollow, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe.

Finally, she murmured, “Yes, well... that was their mistake.”

* * *

 

She had no other visits from Cassandra, after that.  The hollow feeling in her chest didn’t fade, to her consternation, and she started testing the limits of the binding circle in earnest whenever they stopped for the day.  She also started to goad her guards, trying to get a reaction out of one of them, seeing if they would slip up. A couple of times, when she had younger Templars guarding her, they would smite her out of fear; she used the opportunity to work on her resistance to smiting, inwardly grinning at the looks of terror on the Templars’ faces when she didn’t keel over.

Wynn didn’t really have any intention of escaping, though.  She wasn’t going to leave without Evert and Harama.

Intricate magic like binding circles had never been Wynn’s strong suit, though she wagered that, if Evert had been in her situation, he would’ve found a way to take down the circle days ago.  The image of Evert, laughing at the mage’s attempts at caging him, made her smile.

It seemed like it had always been the two of them against the world, even though they met when Wynn was already eighteen.  Evert had been sixteen, fresh from being raised by the Qunari, and was a newly-christened Tal Vashoth, having run away after discovering he was a mage rather than submit to being a Saarebas.  Wynn had loved him almost immediately after meeting him, and it had only taken a few months before he asked if he could take the name of her deceased sister.

She’d offered him her family name as well, but he declined, saying he’d picked out his own.  “Need to still be me,” he said. “Besides, it might get confusing if I have the exact same name as your sister.”

Privately, Wynn had been relieved.  Calling him Everdred always hit a little too close to home.  He’d decided to shorten it to Evert, and that made it easier, but sometimes he did remind her enough of Evie that it hurt.

She missed him - even now, when they were technically both prisoners together.  She had asked, once, if she would be allowed to see him, but had gotten no response.  She hoped that he and Harama were being kept together, and that they weren’t too afraid.  Wynn still carried the blame for Harama’s use of blood magic - something that she had always stressed should only be used as a last resort.

In her darkest moments - usually during the dawn, before the rest of the Inquisition camp rose for the day’s travel - Wynn’s thoughts would turn to Evie.  She would wonder what her sister would think of her actions, and she would pray that Evie would approve of what she was doing. Sometimes she still felt like the eleven year old she’d been when Evie had died, and she wished for nothing more than her sister’s guidance.

Thoughts of Evie inevitably brought Rage out of its dormancy, and she was quick to bury them.

She was permitted to bathe while they were camped in a valley, beside a small stream.  Her guards were gracious enough to turn their backs while she scrubbed at herself, washing as quickly as she could in the freezing water.  She was given clean clothes as well, and a heavier cloak and boots. 

Still no staff, unsurprisingly.

That night, for whatever reason, she was unable to sleep.  The members of the Inquisition seemed to go to sleep earlier each night, the journey taking its toll, and the camp was silent around her, but she lay awake, staring up at the stars.  It was a rare night without wind, and the stillness of the trees around her made her uneasy.

She swept her hair away from her face.  Hopefully they would allow her to trim it soon.

Wynn was just starting to doze off when footsteps roused her.  They’d found a place to camp with almost no snow on the ground, so the usual crunch didn’t give whoever it was away, but the pine needles did.  She didn’t bother to sit up and watched out of the corner of her eye as her guards spoke with whoever it was, then allowed them to pass. She closed her eyes again as they came close, hoping that her visitor would leave if she pretended to sleep.

“I know you are awake,” came Solas’ voice, faintly amused.

Wynn huffed, opening her eyes and forcing herself to sit up.  She eyed him up and down, noticing that he was still wearing his lighter tunic and trousers, and didn’t seem bothered by the cold.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Probably.”

Solas smiled.  “I probably should be, as well.  But you’ve given all of us a lot to think about.”

Wynn snorted.  “I almost find that flattering.  Why visit me now, though?”

Solas didn’t answer right away, studying her instead.  Wynn shifted, feeling a bit like she was one of the animals they would sometimes experiment on in the Circle.  Her warming spell was starting to wear off, and she fought off a shiver.

“Amazing,” Solas finally said.  “If I didn’t know what to look for, I would never have guessed you were possessed.”

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “What is it you look for?  They teach us Circle mages one thing.  I’m guessing you learned differently.”

“Not too differently,” Solas admitted.  “The eyes are the most obvious, but yours only glow when Rage is active within you.  That’s the most remarkable thing: ordinarily, when possessed, the spirit or demon possessing you would always be active.  Yours seems to be in a state of dormancy, most of the time.”

“If you’re going to ask me why,” Wynn said, “I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Cassandra: I don’t know.”

“That isn’t my question,” Solas assured her.  “I wanted to ask you why you accepted it in the first place.”

Wynn opened her mouth to answer, to say that she didn’t have a choice, but she stopped herself, frowning.  Deep down, when she remembered the night of her Harrowing, she knew that she  _ did  _ have a choice.  It had felt so seamless at the time - her terror of the hunger demon hunting her matching the terror that Rage was feeling - and the possession had been almost instantaneous, had happened the moment she realized it was there.  By the time she’d turned on the hunger demon, her power combined with Rage was enough to destroy it, and it had been too late to turn back.

But there had been a moment.  One single moment, where she was looking over the cliff’s edge instead of taking the plunge.  

“What I saw in Rage,” she said, finally, “didn’t scare me more than the thing that was chasing me.  It was almost familiar, even. So I accepted it, because I knew I wouldn’t survive without it..”

“What was chasing you?” Solas asked.

“A hunger demon.”  Wynn paused. “They’re... different, in the Fade.  When I was near it, I could  _ feel  _ who I was slipping away, towards it.  It was the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”

Solas nodded.  “Vivienne expressed some concern, over that,” he said.  “She said it’s very unusual for hunger demons to be drawn to mage apprentices undergoing their Harrowing.  Usually they’re only attracted to mages who have both great power and feel a particular emotion very strongly.”

Wynn tightened her jaw.

“If the rage demon was familiar to you,” Solas continued, “it would stand to reason that you were angry as well.”

That hadn’t been difficult.  Wynn had had a hunch, after her Harrowing - one that had been confirmed by the brief flash of disappointment on Senior Enchanter Lydia’s face the next day.  

“I don’t think I was supposed to survive,” she said.  “That was enough to make me angry at the time.”

“I think it’s very impressive that you did,” Solas told her.  “Even more so when you consider that, not only did you survive, but you did so without alerting the Templars to how you changed.  The fact that you are possessed, yet appear to be relatively stable, is nothing short of remarkable. Commendable, even.”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying it.”

“No, no, of course not.”  Solas smiled. “I know that I would likely not be as fortunate.”

Wynn thought of Solas being possessed by something like Rage, or perhaps Pride (and wouldn’t that be amusing, if only for the irony), and something about the idea made a frisson of unease travel up her spine.

“But,” Solas said, “I am familiar.  With that kind of anger.”

Wynn blinked, surprised.  Solas had always seemed very measured and calm to her.  Certainly, he could be passionate about some topics, but even then it was restrained, like he was wary of showing emotion around anyone else.  Maybe it was his anger that had caused him to be this restrained, though. She’d had to learn to reign her own anger in as well, after all.

“Did you ever stop?” she asked.  “Being angry.”

It was apparently Solas’ turn to look surprised, glancing down at his feet.  

“No,” he answered, after a moment.  “I don’t think I did.”

Wynn nodded slowly, doing her best not to think about what that meant for her.  She’d become accustomed to her anger, wearing it like a second skin, but she’d always told herself that one day, she’d be able to stop.  That she would find some kind of peace, before the end of her life.

Deep down, though, she knew.  Peace wasn’t for people like her.

“Was there anything else?” she asked.

Solas shook his head.  “I’ll leave you to your not-rest,”he said.

Wynn nodded, lying back down, and listened to his receding footsteps.  Her mind was still fixated on what he’d said, about his anger never really leaving him, and her mouth settled into a grim line.

_ Might as well make use of it, then. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra and Wynn's relationship is a bit difficult for me to suss out, right now, but I can say that there will likely be more pain between them before the end of this.


	15. Reparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit of a shorter chapter, as most non-action chapters tend to be. Enjoy!

The days that ended with Cassandra collapsing into her bedroll from exhaustion were the good days.

Days when she was too tired to think, when the exertion of climbing up a mountainside prevented her from dwelling too heavily on... everything.  Days when the only breaks she had were filled with people coming up to her, asking for her approval or advice or wanting to discuss next steps. She pushed herself through each one, forcing herself to keep moving and refusing to look back.

But then there were days when they would be trudging downhill instead of up, when Solas would fall into pensive silence and therefore wouldn’t be providing her with something to listen to.  Those were the days when Leliana would tell her to get some rest, instead of informing her of a strategy meeting - the days when Cassandra would have no choice but to sit, as though frozen, her mind stuck on the conversation she’d had with Wynn.

Even then, she did her best to put it out of her mind.  It made her sick to her stomach, remembering what Wynn had said - how her priority had always been her goal as the leader of the Thorn Coalition, and how their friendship paled in comparison.  Cassandra also felt a stab of anger at herself, for feeling as though she was too dependent on said friendship. Wouldn’t she have done the same for  _ her  _ duty?

Looking back on how desperate she’d been to save Wynn, she was no longer sure.

As though able to sense her feelings on the matter, the others had avoided the topic of Wynn like the plague.  When they couldn’t, they referred to her as ‘DeFleur’ rather than by name, though Cassandra wasn’t sure that was any better.  Even now she struggled to equate the mysterious and dangerous DeFleur with the woman who had become a friend, who joked and used sarcasm almost too often.  

The same question always rattled around in her head, no matter how much she tried to distract herself from it.  This entire time, was it the real Wynn she’d been friends with? Or a false one, someone who did not truly exist?  Cassandra thought of all the moments when Wynn would lash out in anger, or grin at something Cassandra said, and though she was almost certain that they had been genuine, the doubt continued to niggle at the back of her mind.

“Cassandra?”

She shook herself, turning around.  Leliana bowed her head briefly, a gesture of reverence that Cassandra did not think she deserved.  

“What is it?” she asked.

“We’re having another meeting,” Leliana informed her.  “Solas tells me we are only a few more days away from this fortress he is leading us to, and we need to discuss what to do with DeFleur.”

Cassandra was careful to conceal her wince at the mention.  Instead, she kept her expression stoic, and nodded her assent.

Leliana led her to one of the fire pits near the center of the camp.  A fire was already dancing merrily on the logs, even though there was still some daylight left.  Most of the others - the Inner Circle, as Josephine had taken to calling everyone - were already present, standing around the pit.  All conversation ceased as Cassandra approached. 

She noted the expressions on everyone’s faces, trying to gauge their moods before they began.  Solas appeared serene, which was a change from the troubled demeanor he wore most of the journey.  Sera, by contrast, was fidgeting, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere else. Cullen and Josephine both shot Cassandra sympathetic looks, while Leliana’s expression was impassive, as always.  

Varric looked as though he’d swallowed a lemon, Bull looked resigned, and Dorian was outright frowning at her, though she noted that it seemed to be out of concern rather than anger.  Besides Solas, Vivienne was the only one who managed to look untroubled, at least until Cassandra realized that her hands were clenched into fists.

Cassandra swallowed when she realized they were waiting for her to speak.  She was not sure when everyone had silently agreed to follow her lead, and she did not enjoy it.

“Ideas?” she asked.

She wasn’t surprised when Vivienne spoke first.  “DeFleur claims to be in control of the demon,” she said, “but her tenuous hold on it could snap at any moment, and put the entire Inquisition in danger.  If you want to ensure this movement survives, then she needs to die.”

Solas snorted.  “Of course you’d say that.”

Vivienne shot him a glare, her eyes flashing.  “Believe it or not, Solas, I feel no joy regarding DeFleur’s execution.  In all of history, there has never been an abomination that did not, at some point, lose control.  I would rather this not be our only option, but it is.”

Cassandra’s gut twisted at the idea, and the image of herself driving her sword through Wynn’s heart made her want to hurl.  “Is there truly no other option?” she asked. “No way of... removing the demon, somehow?”

She was a Seeker.  She already knew the answer.  And yet -

Vivienne sighed.  “Once you are bound to a demon, there is no undoing it.  Or don’t you think we would have found a way to help other mages who fell under possession?”

“Even if it were possible,” Solas cut in, “neither of you are considering the potential ramifications.  Vivienne - the truth is, we cannot afford to kill Wynn because we don’t know if Cassandra’s Anchor will still work without Wynn’s.  Cassandra, even if separation were possible, again, we have no indication of how that would affect the Anchor. You say our only option is to kill her - you’re wrong.  Our only option is to keep her alive, and mitigate the threat Rage poses to the best of our ability.”

“And what do you propose we do then?” Cullen asked.  “Send her and Cassandra out into the field with four Templars?  March her towards the Fade Rifts as a prisoner? We don’t even know if she’d be willing to cooperate.”

“She’s told me that she has every intention of stopping Corypheus,” Cassandra pointed out.  “She claims he is too dangerous.”

“Do you believe her?” Leliana asked.

Cassandra opened her mouth, then closed it.  It had seemed almost like an aside - something she didn’t really care about - before she told Cassandra her true goal in all of this.  Though Cassandra didn’t believe that Wynn would jeopardize the fight against Corypheus by turning against them all, who knew what would happen afterward?

Still... Corypheus was the most immediate problem.  And the more extreme one, as well.

“Yes,” she answered.

“So,” Varric began, “she’s willing to help us out against Corypheus.  She’s possessed by a demon that apparently makes her just a  _ bit  _ more powerful than the average mage, and she’s a very skilled fighter to boot.  Have any of you ever seen her in sparring matches with the Templars? I was almost embarrassed for them.”

“What are you getting at?” Cassandra asked.

“I’m just saying - if I were you, I’d be perfectly happy that she’s on our side, even if it’s only temporary.”

Cassandra’s Anchor chose that moment to flash.  She looked at it, and almost wished she could sever it at the wrist, releasing her from that which bound her to Wynn.  She told herself that things would be much simpler if only one of them possessed the Anchor, but she knew that was far from the truth.

“ _ If _ we do this,” Vivienne said slowly, crossing her arms.  “We will need to take multiple precautions. She can’t be left alone.  She can’t be allowed to visit the other two Thorn Coalition mages. She will still need at least one Templar to guard her.  Possibly a phylactery, as well.”

“Yes, I’m sure that last one will go over well,” Dorian said.

“I have a suggestion,” Bull said.  

Cassandra nodded.  “Go ahead.”

“Well, it’s more of an... observation,” he said.  “Me and Red here, we’re the ones who know about how the rest of the Inquisition thinks.  Red because she’s the spymaster, and me because... well, I talk to people. And I gotta say - everyone knows that Wynn is DeFleur.  That part spread like wildfire. Not surprising. But since we’re the only ones who know that she has a demon inside her... well, people are starting to wonder.”

“Explain.”

Bull shrugged.  “I’ll be honest - not many of them care that she’s DeFleur.  They all witnessed her willing to die to help them escape. In their eyes, that makes her a hero, regardless of who she was before the Inquisition.  They’re getting curious. They’re wondering why she merits the guards, the binding circle... all of it. The mages especially aren’t happy about it. Many of them look up to her.  She was a good leader to them, in the short time that she was one.”

Leliana sighed.  “He’s right,” she admitted.  “They’re confused. Eventually that’s going to turn into resentment - ‘of course the leader of the mages is a prisoner now’, they’ll think.  Fiona is one of the few we’ve told about her status as an abomination, and she’ll be able to keep them in line for some time, but... we don’t know how long.”

Cassandra could feel pressure starting to build under her temples.  “We should discuss the logistics of this arrangement, then,” she said, forcing down a sigh.  “Who will be guarding her, for example. What kind of enchantments may need to be cast upon her.  Her role in the Inquisition, henceforth. And I think we will have to discuss this with her, as well.”

The nausea returned at the thought of pitching this idea to Wynn.  In spite of her belief that Wynn would help them, she could also easily see Wynn laughing in their faces.  

She looked down at her hands, and for a moment was able to see Wynn’s blood on them.  Well. It was better than the alternative.

They spent several hours debating the details.  Cassandra was exhausted by the end of it, often caught in the middle of the arguments.  She could understand both sides - the ones who saw Wynn as a danger to them all, and the ones who considered her a friend.  Iron Bull, Leliana, and Josephine were the only ones who seemed to understand that the situation was more complicated, and that there was no easy answer; she was grateful to the other three for being patient throughout the meeting.

She was especially grateful when, after the discussion was finally concluded, Leliana suggested that they wait until tomorrow before pitching the idea to Wynn herself.  Cassandra didn’t think she could handle that particular conversation, not when her eyelids threatened to droop every five seconds.

And yet, when she finally fell into her bedroll, sleep refused to come.  Cassandra lay there, watching images flashing behind her eyelids - of her killing Wynn, or of Wynn killing her.  Corypheus killing them both, everyone dying while the Breach expanded hungrily. Eventually she succumbed to the nightmares, and awoke from them shaking.

Cassandra rolled over, groaning when she realized that the light of dawn was peeking in through the flap of her tent.  She lay there for a few moments, debating on whether or not trying to get more sleep was worth it, before giving up and forcing herself up.  She pulled on a second layer of clothes and her armor quickly, shivering in the frigid morning air, before stepping outside of her tent.

Her feet carried her towards the fire where they’d had their meeting the day before, and she was surprised to see Vivienne already sitting by it, staring into the blackened, now-defunct logs.  Cassandra sat cross-legged near her, pulling a hunk of dried meat out of her pack and chewing on it, making her hunger abate somewhat.

Vivienne must have been lost in thought, because when she finally noticed Cassandra she blinked at her.  

“My apologies,” she finally said.  “Good morning.”

Cassandra swallowed before replying in kind.  They both fell silent again, a little too quickly to be normal.  Despite Vivienne’s poise and charisma, she’d become... brittle, perhaps.  Or uncertain. The journey to Skyhold, as Solas called it, was starting to take its toll.  Or maybe the revelations surrounding Wynn were just as jarring for Vivienne as they were for Cassandra.

Finally, Vivienne said, “I don’t want to have to kill her.”

Based on how Vivienne and Wynn had always acted around each other, Cassandra might have once had cause to doubt that.  Now, however, she can only seen pain and sincerity from Vivienne.

“We were friends,” Vivienne elaborated, not looking at Cassandra.  “Neither of us likes talking about it, but we were. When we were children.  When my magic was first discovered, I was taken to Ostwick, not Montsimmard.”

Somehow, that wasn’t surprising.  Cassandra could easily see it - two lonely girls, seeing something kindred in one another.  

“She’d only been there a week when I was brought there,” Vivienne continued.  “I was... quiet. Still afraid, I suppose. She was, too, until the day she decided to sit with me during meals.”  A fond smile appeared on her face; Cassandra wondered if she knew it was there. “There’s a reason she keeps her hair short, you know - back then, it was nearly down to the middle of her back.  Completely unmanageable. I think... I offered a piece of string, or something, so that she could tie it back. We were inseparable, after that.”

“What happened?”  Cassandra kept her voice low, not knowing why.

Vivienne shrugged.  “I was transferred,” she said.  “A few months after that. With no explanation, no forewarning.  We both knew I was lucky - Montsimmard had an excellent Circle, far better than Ostwick.  I think Wynn was hurt, but she would only smile and wish me luck. She never told me she would miss me.”

Abruptly, Vivienne stood, her mask firmly back in place.  “Excuse me,” she murmured, marching away.

Cassandra stared down at her breakfast, which had sat, forgotten, in her hand, while Vivienne spoke.  Her throat convulsed for a moment, before she forced herself to take another bite, finishing it off while the rest of the camp woke up around her.  

It occurred to her that Vivienne hadn’t once called Wynn ‘DeFleur’, during their conversation.

Once she was done eating, she knew she had run out of excuses.  She stood, squaring her shoulders.

It was time to talk to Wynn.

* * *

 

Wynn was already awake when Cassandra approached, flanked by Leliana and Cullen on either side.  She was in the middle of packing up her bedroll, securing it to her pack. She glanced up at them, standing and brushing off her trousers.  Cassandra couldn’t help but think that she looked vulnerable without her usual armor.

Wynn eyed each of them, her face closed.  “Yes?”

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but found the words caught in her throat.  Instead, it was Leliana who stepped forward.

“We have a proposal for you,” she said.

Wynn’s eyes darted from Leliana to Cassandra again.  “... go on.”

As Leliana outlined the terms of the deal, Wynn’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  Cassandra noted that she seemed paler, and more exhausted, not unlike Cassandra herself.  She also didn’t miss the way Wynn’s gaze constantly shifted over to her, instead of staying focused on Leliana.

Once Leliana had finished explaining, Wynn said, “I actually have a proposal for all of you, as well.  One that would benefit us both.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow.  “And that is?”

Wynn closed her eyes; if Cassandra didn’t know any better, she’d say Wynn was praying.  When she opened them again, there was a steely glint to them.

“I’m willing to allow the Thorn Coalition to be conscripted into the Inquisition.”

It took all of Cassandra’s willpower not to let her jaw drop.  Cullen wasn’t so lucky. Leliana seemed less surprised than the rest of them, though her eyebrows still went up.  

Of all the possible responses to their proposal, none of them had expected this.

“You can’t be serious,” Cassandra said.

“I’m very serious,” Wynn countered.  “I told you that I want Corypheus stopped.  That would be made easier if you had a group of mages who are fighters amongst you, wouldn’t it?  They’re used to combat. They know how to follow orders. They’re used to rough weather conditions, being on the move - they’d be useful, and you know it.”

“That’s if they’d be willing to listen to us,” Cullen said.

Wynn shrugged.  “They will if I tell them to.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes.  “And what are your conditions?”

“Fairly simple,” Wynn said, shrugging.  “I’ll still agree to your deal, and everything that entails.  The Thorn Coalition wouldn’t be mine to command - instead, they’d be the Inner Circle’s.  But I don’t want them to be constantly guarded by Templars, and I want Evert and Harama released immediately.  I’ll leave it up to you whether or not any of them will be able to visit me. I’m the only one who’s possessed, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

“Harama used blood magic,” Leliana pointed out.

Wynn sighed.  “She did.”

“Can you guarantee that she won’t do it again?”

“As much as I can guarantee that any mage won’t ever use blood magic,” Wynn said.  “The Thorn Coalitions is loyal to me, yes, but I know how it is with blood magic. I know that it’s difficult for people not to use it again, when they’ve used it once.  I can’t say for sure whether she never will, but it’s equally possible that she won’t.”

“Why would you give them up?” Cassandra asked.  “Protecting them has always been important to you.”

“I  _ am  _ protecting them,” Wynn replied, eyes flashing.  “Evert came to find me because something was wrong.  I sent them... away, and I’ll only tell you where if you agree to my terms.  But it’s not safe. They’re being taken by... someone. I don’t know who. I just want them away from there.”

“That explains it then,” Cassandra said.

Wynn scowled.  “Well, if you  _ don’t  _ want them -”

“We didn’t say that,” Leliana interrupted quickly.  “You’re right; the Thorn Coalition would be useful conscripts.  And we’ll make sure they’re treated well.”

She glanced at Cassandra as she said this.  Cassandra caught her eye for a moment, before she looked back at Wynn and nodded.

“Very well,” she said.  “But it will be as you said - the Thorn Coalition will be taking orders from others within the Inquisition.  Vivienne, Solas, Fiona, most likely. Or Cullen, if they are in fact more suited for military tasks.”

Wynn looked almost pained at that, but said, “All right.  And... I agree to your deal. The guard, and... the phylactery.”

Leliana took a few steps forward, until she was standing just outside the binding circle.  “Very well,” she said, and to Cassandra’s surprise, her voice was soft. “Vivienne will be along later to draw blood, and then the binding circle will be taken down.  We’ve chosen a pair of templars to rotate as your guard - they’ll be introduced to you at the same time.”

Wynn smiled at her, but it was brittle, the edges trembling.  Cassandra was quick to pivot on her heels, suddenly desperate not to see that look on Wynn’s face again.  A second set of footsteps told her that Cullen was following behind her, but Leliana continued to speak to Wynn, and she could no longer make out the words.

“Are you alright with this?” Cullen asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  Cassandra didn’t look at him.  “The Inquisition will only be stronger now.”

Cullen chuckled wryly.  “I wasn’t talking about the Thorn Coalition - that’s its own discussion.  I’m talking about DeFleur.”

Cassandra glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not exactly a secret,” he elaborated.  “That you two were close. The night that Thorn Coalition mage used blood magic, and DeFleur ran off, you were very quick to go after her.”

“She was upset,” Cassandra said, unsure why she was being so defensive.  “I was doing what any friend would do.”

Cullen raised his hands.  “I’m not saying it was wrong, or that you were in the wrong, being her friend.  I think everyone grew somewhat fond of her, after a while.”

“Even you?”

“I was usually the one observing while she beat our few Templars into shape.  I respect her, at the very least.”

Cassandra blinked, a bit surprised.  Cullen and Wynn had avoided one another like the plague, for the most part - or so she thought.  Evidently they had spent at least some time together, whenever Wynn would train with the Templars.

“All I’m saying,” Cullen continued, “is that it’s... okay, you know.  If you’re not okay. With all of this.”

The words that Cassandra had wanted to say got stuck in her throat.  She swallowed. “Thank you.”

Cullen nodded in return, then headed off in a different direction through the camp.  Cassandra stood still, taking a few deep breaths in an effort to stave off the sudden influx of tears.  In the end, only one managed to escape down her cheek; she wiped it off, then forced her legs to move.

* * *

 

It was a subtle change, but Cassandra noticed that the pace of the Inquisition picked up slightly.  They were heading up a particularly grueling mountain path - one that Cassandra suspected had been created by goats, not people - but that didn’t seem to deter anyone.  Perhaps it was the knowledge that they were very near their goal, according to Solas. Or perhaps people were just in greater spirits. 

Pausing for a moment, she let Solas continue ahead while she turned around to survey their forces.  The faces she saw were lined with exhaustion from a long journey, but each and every one was set in determination.  Not one could be accused of slowing any of the others down. Cassandra felt a small swell of pride within her at the sight.  

One of the faces near the front of the column caught her eye.  Wynn wasn’t looking at her, focusing instead on the path in front of her, but she seemed to be chatting amicably with her Templar guard.  Cassandra had been one of those who had vetted Lysette before giving her the assignment, feeling that Lysette would be able to be detached but respectful.  She hadn’t thought Wynn would attempt to engage with her guards; clearly she’d been wrong.

Lysette rolled her eyes and said something to Wynn, who threw back her head and laughed.  The sight tugged at Cassandra’s heart, and she quickly turned back around and worked to catch up with Solas.

He’d moved more quickly than she anticipated, making it to the top of the ridge by the time she caught up with him.  He had a small smile on his face, and once Cassandra drew level with him, it soon became clear why.

“Cassandra,” he said, nodding to her, then looking back in the direction they were heading, “welcome to Skyhold.”

The sight very nearly took her breath away.  Even in Nevarra, she’d never seen a mountain fortress so large.  Though Solas had described it as ancient, it looked nearly intact, if a bit run-down.  The walls of Skyhold gave way to sheer cliffs on all sides except the front - just looking at it, she could tell that it would be far more difficult for Corypheus to attack.

“Incredible,” she breathed.  “Thank you for bringing us here, Solas.”

He chuckled.  “I don’t know if I can say hiking through the mountains was a pleasure, but I am glad I could help.”

“You two have been standing there for an awfully long time,” came Varric’s voice behind them.  “Are you watching the sunset or...?”

He trailed off as he joined them.  “Maker’s breath.”

“It’s  _ perfect _ !” Cullen exclaimed, on Cassandra’s right.  He sounded more excited than he had been since Haven.

“Very impressive,” came a quiet murmur from just behind Cassandra.  Almost automatically, Cassandra shifted to the side, allowing Wynn to stand to her left.  Wynn didn’t look at her, her gaze fixed on the fortress, but she looked... more hopeful, maybe.  Cassandra, realizing that she was the only one not staring at Skyhold, quickly tore her gaze away.

“Excellent,” Dorian exclaimed, inserting himself between Cassandra and Cullen.  “Now comes the fun part: getting everyone in there.”

“You  _ had  _ to ruin it, Sparkler,” Varric muttered.

“Yes, well, everyone was getting all soppy and emotional about some old castle.  It was pathetic, really.”

Cassandra snorted.  Dorian nudged her with his elbow, grinning.

“After you then, Herald,” he said, giving an over-exaggerated bow and nearly toppling off the rise.

Feeling’s Wynn’s eyes suddenly burn into her back, Cassandra almost tripped over herself in her haste to start making her way down the other side of the mountain slope.  She wondered if it was her imagination, or if Wynn really did stare at her the entire way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way - I found the _perfect_ song for Wynn today: Which Witch, by Florence + the Machine. Seriously, look at these lyrics:
> 
> "I'm not beat up by this yet  
> You can't tell me to regret  
> Been in the dark since the day we met  
> Fire, help me to forget"
> 
> And:
> 
> "And it's my whole heart  
> While tried and tested, it's mine  
> And it's my whole heart  
> Trying to reach it out  
> And it's my whole heart  
> Burned but not buried this time  
> I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out  
> I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out"
> 
> Find a more perfect song for her, I dare you. (If you say Glitter and Gold, too late, that's also another of her theme songs.)


	16. Adjustment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pretty light on interaction between Cassandra and Wynn, but we do get to see a lot more of the Thorn Coalition and Wynn's relationships with everyone in it. Hope you enjoy!

“It is strange,” Lysette said, “that there is all this snow on the ground outside the keep, but inside...”

Wynn nodded, surveying their surroundings.  “Strange, yes, but I’m not going to question our luck.”

“If luck is all it is,” Lysette muttered.

“You’re even more superstitious than I am,” Wynn said, laughing, “and I grew up with the certainty that one of the reading rooms in the Ostwick Circle was haunted.”

Lysette, who had been staring out over the courtyard beside Wynn, turned to look at her instead, eyebrow raised.  “Now this I must hear. Haunted reading rooms? We did not have any of those where I was stationed.”

Wynn turned, a silent indication that she was going to continue along the battlement.  “Well, I’ll admit that it was only once, when I was a child. And considering I’d only just been brought to the Circle, and was still frightened, I could very well have been imagining things.”

Lysette hummed.  “I have never believed that children should be underestimated.”

The southwest tower was the second tallest in Skyhold, and it was that tower that loomed in front of them now.  The masonwork at the very top was crumbling. There was no door set into the doorway, and Wynn could hear the wind whistling through the tower.  Though it was the middle of the day, it seemed to be an appropriate setting for the story she was about to tell.

“I was in the library,” she began.  “I wasn’t allowed very many books, when I first came to the Circle.  The Senior Enchanter was concerned with how dangerous they would be in a child’s hands.  But it was fairly easy to sneak books out of the library, if you were confident enough. I decided I wanted to know about demons.”

“Apparently that fascination never quite went away,” Lysette observed dryly.

“Ha ha,” Wynn said, rolling her eyes and hiding her surprise at how easily Lysette joked about it.  “Anyway - I don’t think anyone believed the reading room to be haunted, not like I did, but for whatever reason nobody wanted to use it.  I could always count on it to be deserted, so I smuggled my new treasure in there. I think a Templar looked in on me at one point, but whoever it was didn’t interrupt me, so I kept on reading.”

They needed to go through the tower to get to the western battlement.  Wynn led the way through the door, Lysette following close behind. There wasn’t much of interest in the tower - mostly splintered woodwork and some ancient-looking furniture.  Dust and light swirled together in the air, thrown up by the constant tunnel of wind coming through the tower.

“It was very subtle,” Wynn continued, “but there were a few times when I could swear someone was reading over my shoulder.  I’d look, but no one was ever there. The worst moment was when I felt someone breathe on my neck.”

As if on cue, a wooden plank that had been leaning against the wall toppled over.  Lysette jumped, then elbowed Wynn in the side.

“Thanks for that,” she said.

Wynn laughed, then led the way out to the western battlement.  “After that, I jumped up and sprinted back to the main library, and I never touched that book again.  At least, not until after my Harrowing.”

Lysette nodded, not needing to ask for elaboration.  She’d been informed of the basics regarding Wynn’s possession: that it had happened during her Harrowing, that it was a Rage demon, and that she had a modicum of control over it.  It was a subject that they mostly avoided. Wynn suspected that Lysette didn’t really  _ want  _ to know more.

“And no one else ever had an encounter in that room?” Lysette asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Wynn answered.  “Though Evert braved it once. He didn’t experience the same thing I did, but he did tell me that it felt strange in there, and that he didn’t want to go back.”

She’d caught a glimpse of Evert yesterday, walking towards the stables, his head swiveling back and forth as he took in the sights of the Inquisition setting up shop.  She didn’t know whether she was allowed to speak to him, so she had refrained from calling out, but it heartened her to know that he and Harama had been freed. She hadn’t been able to see any Templar guards, either.

“Do you want to see him?” Lysette asked, as though she could read Wynn’s mind.

“Yes,” Wynn admitted.  “But I was never told if it was allowed.”

“It’s allowed,” Lysette said, causing Wynn to glance at her in surprise.  “But I have to be within listening distance. Same goes for any Thorn Coalition member who wishes to speak with you, or vice versa.”

Wynn nodded.  Though her lack of privacy was an inconvenience, it was a small price to pay for her being able to check up on Evert and Harama.  

Lysette was the one who led the way down from the battlements; Wynn kept getting turned around in Skyhold, constantly thinking she would end up in one place and finding herself in another.  At one point, she’d meant to go speak to Leliana about whether she’d received a response from Neylani yet, and had ended up in Josephine’s receiving room instead.

She’d been annoyed, yes, but at the same time she’d been relieved that Minaeve was no longer working in the same room.

They emerged from the northwest tower into the gardens, following the snaking path to the entrance to Skyhold’s keep.  Someone had finally gotten all the fires going in the great hall, bathing it in warmth that the weak sunlight couldn’t provide.  Wynn pretended she couldn’t feel curious eyes on her as they crossed the hall, and she only nodded a quick greeting to Solas when they passed through his study.

The keep’s library was where most mages tended to congregate.  Lysette had told her that Cullen intended to test out Evert and Harama’s combat abilities, but that wasn’t supposed to take place until the afternoon; it was still fairly early in the morning.  She searched for Evert’s horns among the shelves, and spotted him grouped with Harama and (to her surprise) Dorian. All three of them were hunched over an open tome.

Evert was the first to spot her, his eyes lighting up.  In spite of his bulk, he moved fast, and Wynn soon found herself swept into one of his bear hugs.  

“I give, I give,” she fake-wheezed, laughing as he set her down.  “You’re going to crush my bones next time.”

Evert gave a her a mock-salute.  “Apologies, ma’am.”

She caught a small smile on Lysette’s face out of the corner of her eye.  Her guard had moved a few feet away, a tactful move. It looked like she wasn’t intruding, but she was still within earshot.

Harama approached more slowly, and when Wynn embraced her it was much more gentle.  She pretended not to notice the tremble in Harama’s arms, and sent her a reassuring smile when she pulled away.

“Still on probation, huh?” Evert asked, glancing at Lysette.  “Well, at least it’s only one.”

Wynn grimaced, thinking of the phylactery that was somewhere among Vivienne’s belongings.  That was something that only the Inner Circle knew about, and she knew that she couldn’t tell Evert or Harama.  “This is Lysette,” she said, beckoning for her to come forward. “Probably the most courteous guard I’ve ever had.”

Evert gave her a nod and a smile, but Harama paled.  Lysette, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice, nodding back at Evert.

“No hug for me?” Dorian asked, spreading his arms and pouting.

Wynn raised an eyebrow.  “Do you  _ really  _ want one?”

“From your uncivilized self?”  He scoffed. “Of course not. You probably smell.”

“What a surprise,” Wynn said.  “Though I must say, I  _ am  _ surprised to see you thick as thieves with Evert and Harama.  You all seemed very engrossed by...” She trailed off, picking up the book they’d been looking at.  “‘Common and Useful Remedies for Thedosian Mages’. Really, Evert? Not a book about the Fade?”

“I’m afraid not,” Evert sighed.  “I tried to talk to the elf downstairs - Solas, yes? - but he wasn’t the most forthcoming conversation partner.  Seems distracted by something. It was a bit of a letdown, to be honest. I was looking forward to having someone to discuss it with.  So I’m taking a break up here, for a little while.”

“And what drew you to this particular book?” Wynn asked.

There was an awkward pause, during which the other three mages glanced at one another, and then Harama mumbled, “Sleeping aids.”

The blood magic.

It was common knowledge that blood magic weakened a mage’s connection to the Fade.  Doubly so for Harama, who had used her own blood. It didn’t often cause the user to struggle with sleeping itself, but evidently that was the effect that it had had on Harama - Wynn could see the dark circles beneath her eyes, up close.

She put a hand on Harama’s shoulder, and Harama shot her a grateful look.

“As to why they’re spending time with me,” Dorian said, gracefully steering the conversation away from the topic, “well.  I do have some experience with being regarded by the rest of the Inquisition with hostility.”

“It’s not so bad,” Evert said, shrugging.  “To be honest, I think I get more looks because of my horns.”

Evert’s horns had always been distinctive; one curved into an elegant twist, while the other had been hacked off near the base.  It had taken him three months before he was willing to tell that story, about an encounter with Tevinter soldiers a few weeks after he’d run from Par Vollen.

“A man who is both Tal-Vashoth and a mage has joined the Inquisition,” Dorian mused.  “I imagine that would give both our countrymen - former countrymen, in your case - nightmares.”

“ _ I like being their nightmare _ ,” Evert muttered in Qunlat.

Wynn patted him on the shoulder.  “ _ I know you probably gave Lydia nightmares, at least. _ ”

Evert winked.  “ _ You give the best compliments _ .”

“Not fair,” Dorian complained.  “If I don’t have anyone around to speak Tevene with, you two are not allowed to suddenly start sharing inside jokes in Qunlat.  Look at poor Harama - she looks just as befuddled as I am.”

Harama smiled.  “A few of the others picked it up, after we left Ostwick,” she said.  “But I never really had the knack for it.”

Wynn couldn’t keep the grin off of her face.  She hadn’t been sure she’d be able to see Evert again, after the deal she made, but it heartened her to see him still in good spirits.  She worried for Harama, but she wasn’t sure how much she could do, except lend her support. Common magical remedies weren’t exactly her strong suit.

The conversation continued for some time, with even Lysette chiming in occasionally, until they were shooed out of the library by an annoyed Fiona.  Wynn received little acknowledgement from Fiona, aside from a scrutinizing look, as though Fiona was trying to peel back her layers and see the Rage demon inside.

They headed back downstairs through Solas’ study, and moved into the Great Hall, intending to cut back through to the gardens.

“Wynn!”

Wynn turned her head, surprised to see Varric waving her over from beside one of the fireplaces.  She knew he’d adopted the spot as his own, and it made sense for him to. Not only was it one of the warmest places in the keep, but it also gave him a good view of who was coming and going in Skyhold.

“I’ll join you in a minute,” Wynn told the others.

“Maybe,” Evert said, sighing.  “We don’t have a whole lot of time before our assessments.  Come to think of it, we should probably get something to eat before that kicks off.  Coming, Dorian?”

“Perhaps your company will make the food taste better.”

Evert slapped him on the back, throwing his other arm around Harama’s shoulders and leading them both in the direction of the kitchens.  “Good luck with that.”

Wynn watched them go for a moment before remembering why she wasn’t leaving as well.  Only Lysette remained by her side as she turned back toward Varric, who sent her an apologetic smile.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said.  “I know you haven’t seen them in a while.”

“It’s no problem,” Wynn said.  “You wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t important.  What’s wrong?”

“Who said something was wrong?” he asked lightly, but the tension around his eyes belied his words.  “I’m, uh... actually having someone come to Skyhold later this afternoon, just before supper. He knows a thing or two about Corypheus, and he’ll be able to help us out.  I was hoping you’d be there when he arrives.”

A suspicion started to unfurl in Wynn’s mind, but she didn’t speak it aloud.  “Why not?” she answered, shrugging. “I’m on indefinite probation. There’s not much else I can do.  I’m guessing Cassandra will be there?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “She kinda has to be.  Is... that a problem?”

“No,” Wynn said, though her stomach twisted.

She’d barely seen Cassandra since they arrived at Skyhold.  It wasn’t a surprise; practically everyone in the Inquisition seemed to demand her attention.  She was the only Herald of Andraste left who wasn’t a prisoner, and there were whispers about an Inquisitor finally being named.  The only times Wynn had seen her were early in the morning, when Cassandra was hacking away at practice dummies, or occasionally at mealtimes, always seated as far from Wynn as possible.

“You alright?” Varric asked, interrupting her train of thought.

“I’m fine,” Wynn answered.  “Just a bit overwhelmed by everything.”

“I get that,” Varric said.  “Although I have to wonder - considering that you’re DeFleur, is all this craziness really that strange?  You were already leading a life most people would have considered impossible.”

Wynn shrugged.  “Things were difficult then, yes, but if you’d told me I’d be working with Chantry folk to rid the world of an ancient Darkspawn, back when I first started the Thorn Coalition, I’d have laughed in your face.”

“Yeah,” Varric muttered.  “So would I. Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

“In some ways.”

Varric sent her a shrewd look, but didn’t push her further.  “Anyway - if you want to catch up with your friends, I’ll let you go.  See you later? We’re meeting up on the western battlement, just above the gardens.”

“I’ll be there,” Wynn promised.

* * *

 

The afternoon was spent watching Evert and Harama prove their mettle against both the Inquisition Templars and their regular soldiers.  Both their fighting styles differed significantly from Wynn’s own, but like Wynn they had honed their resistance to smiting and knew how to use their staffs against swords, if need be.  Evert preferred to be on the defensive, planting himself like a tree and relying on spiritual energy to defend himself and trick his opponent. Harama, by contrast, used a combination of ice and electricity to surprise and distract her opponents.

By the time Cullen was finished running them through drills and sparring matches, he looked both impressed and wary.  He’d spoken to both mages after the bouts were over, and though Wynn couldn’t hear what he was saying, she saw Evert give him a mock salute and one of his signature grins.  

Cullen bristled slightly at that, but Wynn knew that Evert meant nothing by it.  He’d often treated her the same way, after all.

“If your mages all fight like that,” Lysette said, “then we will have gained a significant advantage over Corypheus.”

Wynn could only nod.  She was unsure how to explain to Lysette that the reason why they were that good was because their year in the Thorn Coalition had demanded it.  They had a will to survive that exceeded most people’s, and all the fighting and running and living in the wilderness had transformed them from researchers to lean, skilled fighters.  She didn’t know how to talk about the cold nights, when none of them were sure they would make it.

She headed back up to the battlements just as the sun started to dip behind one of the nearby mountains.  Varric and his friend were already there, though that friend had his back to Wynn; her suspicions were confirmed when he turned around, revealing a characteristic smudge of warpaint across the bridge of his nose.

“Wynn,” Varric said, “meet Hawke.  The Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke, meet Wynn Trevelyan - also known as DeFleur.”

Hawke offered a hand, which Wynn shook, recognizing the thrum of magic when she grasped it.  The rumors had always been cagey about whether Hawke was a mage, or merely a warrior. It was nice to have confirmation.

Hawke, for his part, didn’t bat an eye at her introduction.  “I’m not fond of that title,” he said, shooting Varric a glare.

Varric shrugged, looking unrepentant.  

“You might want to step away from the edge of the battlement,” Wynn told Varric.

“Why?”

“Because when Cassandra gets here, she might try to throw you over the edge.”

“Too late,” Lysette murmured.  Wynn turned around in time to see that Cassandra had ascended to the top of the stairs, and was now striding toward them along the battlement.  She noted the moment that Cassandra saw her - there was just a slight stumble in her step, and her exhausted expression became something else - but that was nothing compared to the moment that Cassandra registered just who it was they were meeting.

Hawke, apparently, had more diplomatic sense than any of the rest of them.  He strode forward, sketching a quick bow. “Lady Pentaghast,” he said, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Wynn could actually see Cassandra decide that she was going to deal with her feelings on this matter at a later point in time.  Instead, she smiled cordially, and said, “The honor is mine. I admire the way you handled what happened in Kirkwall. It sounded as though you did the best you could with the circumstances you were given.”

Hawke blinked.  “Thank you,” he said, though he shot a questioning look at Varric a moment later.

“Varric tells me you know something of Corypheus.”

Hawke’s face darkened.  “Yes, we’ve had... something of a run-in with him, in the past.  The short version is that Varric and I were led into a trap, engineered by Corypheus.  We managed to foil him, fight him, and kill him.”

Something about his wording tugged at Wynn.  “You mean you  _ think  _ you killed him?” she asked.

“No,” Hawke answered.  “I mean we  _ did  _ kill him.  We saw his dead body and everything.  Double-checked his pulse, kicked him a couple of times.  As far as we could tell, he was very, very dead.”

Wynn’s skin crawled at the implications.  Either there had been another, equally powerful ancient darkspawn out there who admired Corypheus and decided to take up his cause, or Corypheus couldn’t be killed.  Wynn didn’t particularly like the implication that death wasn’t a stopgap for Corypheus. Even if they did manage to kill him, he would just come back? Fantastic.

“I suppose that is another topic we must have our mages look into,” Cassandra sighed.  She looked like she was about to throw up.

“We should probably keep this quiet,” Wynn warned.  

“I agree,” Cassandra said, not looking at her.  “We inform the Inner Circle, but no one else. It will only cause the Inquisition to feel more despair at the prospect of fighting him.  And if the word does get out, hopefully we will have found the secret of his supposed immortality in the meantime.”

“There’s something else I should mention,” Hawke broke in.  “The reason we were lured into this trap was because we received a summons from the Grey Wardens.  They had Corypheus locked away in some kind of secret prison, but over time he’d begun to influence their minds, and they started to work for him instead of against him.”

Cassandra shot him an alarmed look.  “Leliana has told me that the Grey Wardens are missing,” she said.  “She hasn’t been able to get in touch with them. The only one who isn’t is a man named Blackwall - he is with the Inquisition.”

Wynn didn’t know much about the Wardens.  The Fifth Blight had been a distant concern during her childhood in Ostwick, secondary to her lessons and hiding her magic from her dispassionate parents.  There had only been one incident involving them that she could remember, when a party of Wardens passed through the city, and that had told her little, apart from the fact that they looked scary.

“I have a friend among them,” Hawke was saying.  “He recently sent me a message asking me to make contact with him near Crestwood.  I think he might be able to shed some light on whatever is happening with Corypheus and the Wardens, and whether or not they’re connected.  Lady Pentaghast, I think you should come along.”

“Very well,” Cassandra said.  “We can set out tomorrow. Wynn, you are staying here.”

Wynn scowled.  “And if there are rifts?”

Cassandra still wouldn’t look at her, and it made her want to scream.  “Then they will stay open, for the time being.”

Wynn felt more than saw Lysette stiffen, as though she was preparing to smite her.  She forced herself to relax, somewhat stung by the reminder that Lysette might be friendly, but she was still guarding her.  Finally, Cassandra’s eyes met hers, and the warning in them made Wynn back down.

“Very well,” she said curtly.

Hawke watched the entire exchange with interest, his flicking from Cassandra to Wynn to Lysette, no doubt putting the pieces together.  Cassandra turned back to him, quickly making arrangements for herself, Hawke, and two others to set out at dawn the next day. She didn’t specify who she would be bringing, but Wynn guessed it would be Dorian and Blackwall.

Hawke excused himself, citing hunger, and though Varric made to follow him, Cassandra called him back.  Wynn quickly left as well, not eager to witness the inevitable confrontation, and was glad when neither asked her to stay.

As night overtook the Frostbacks, Lysette was relieved by Edric, who remained silent while Wynn ate her supper and then headed up to the library, feeling restless and unsure of what to do with herself.  One of the rebel mages, an elf named Genn, was only too happy to take her assistance in researching red lyrium, and she spent the next several hours with her nose buried in a book, taking notes on lyrium and trying to discover more about its properties.

Eventually she bade Genn good night, and headed back outside to the tents where the soldiers slept.  She had her own tent, and was tired enough from the days events that it didn’t take her very long to fall asleep after lying down on her bedroll.  

For the first time since Haven, her dreams were absent.

* * *

 

Wynn knew that there were worse prisons, but that didn’t stop her from being bored out of her mind.

Even after she persuaded Cullen to allow her to resume her training with the templars, she still felt restless.  Every time her hand flared up, it was a reminder that Cassandra had (for the first time) gone out into the field without her.  It was worse when Cullen ended training for the day. Her strengths had never lain in research, and though she helped where she could, it was easy for her to lose focus in the library.

Some of the Inner Circle members - namely Varric, Solas, and Iron Bull- didn’t treat her any differently.  More often than not she ended up sitting with one or more of them during mealtimes, and conversation with them was enough to distract her.  If they weren’t around, then it was easy to find Evert or Harama and spend time with them. Sera was more wary of her, however, and always tried to escape conversations with her.  Vivienne, unsurprisingly, outright ignored her.

Cullen and she had a tentative, unspoken truce, so long as she kept the Templars in shape.  Josephine was still friendly, if a little nervous at times. Leliana, bemusingly, was treating her with more respect than before.  Wynn wasn’t sure what to make of that.

A few days after Cassandra and Hawke had left, taking Dorian and Blackwall with them (as Wynn had suspected), she was spending her afternoon trying to teach a few of the Inquisition Templars to anticipate her fade step.  None of them were very successful thus far, and she almost always ended up knocking them on their backsides.

“No,” she said firmly, not offering a hand up to the big Templar she’d just bowled over.  “You’re Templars. You have an instinct, when it comes to magic, but all you do with it is throw your weight around.  If you want to beat me, you’re going to have to  _ feel  _ it.  Use your sense of my magic to anticipate where I’m going to be.”

She opened her mouth to tell them to try again when a clamor at the gates distracted her.  She signalled to Cullen, who was watching from the sidelines, that she was taking a break. The Templars she’d been training with today were all grumbling as she passed them, no doubt nursing their bruised arses.

Cullen and Lysette both followed her as she headed toward the gate.  Her heart leapt as she recognized a few faces in the group that had just come through, and a grin spread across her face.

The elf at the front of the group was the first to spot her - Xyfandel, an impossibly tall elf.  They saluted sharply, pressing a fist to their chest.

“DeFleur,” they said, but a smile was playing at the corners of their mouth.

“None of that,” Wynn told Xyfandel.  “Remember, you don’t take orders from me anymore.”

Xyfandel relaxed.  “Calling you ‘Wynn’ is going to feel strange.”

Xyfandel had been taken from their clan as a teenager, and had been transferred between three different Circle Towers before ending up at Ostwick mere weeks before the Mage Rebellion began.  Their vallaslin were different from that of most Dalish elves - they shimmered different colors, depending on the light. 

Wynn searched among the faces, and her heart clenched when she realized the one she’d hoped to see wasn’t among them.  

“Neylani?” she asked.

Xyfandel’s jaw tightened.  “One of those taken. We lost twelve before we received word from this ‘Inquisition’.”

Wynn let out a string of curses in a mix of Common and Qunlat.  She quickly reigned in her anger, hoping that now that the Thorn Coalition was away from the southern Frostbacks, they were out of danger.  

“This is Commander Cullen,” she said, nodding to him.  “From now on, he’s your commanding officer. If he gives you an order, you follow it.  No questions asked. Though considering your skills, I doubt you’ll be going on regular missions like the rest of the soldiers.”

Cullen inclined his head.  Xyfandel paused, assessing him for a long moment, then saluted again.  

“An honor, ser,” they said, giving no hint that they cared that he was a Templar.

“At ease,” Cullen said.  If he had any feelings about the fact that Xyfandel was a Thorn Coalition mage, he didn’t show them.  “I know you’ve all had a long journey, so I suggest you rest and eat. But training will start tomorrow, and deployment into the field will begin shortly after.”

“Yes, ser.”

Xyfandel and the rest of the mages headed to the kitchens; a few of them shot disbelieving looks at Wynn, who hid her wince.  She’d known that not everyone would be happy with her decision, but it kept them safe from whatever had been hunting them, and it allowed her to keep an eye on everyone.

“They’re very disciplined,” Cullen observed.

“It was easier to maintain a structure, of some kind,” Wynn said.

In spite of her desire to mingle with her people and find out more about what had happened in her absence, she finished her training session with the Templars.  A couple of the Thorn Coalition members brought their meals back outside with them to watch, their motley collection of armor and staffs making them stand out. 

When the session was over, it was a relief to finally join them.  Wynn prided herself on knowing the names of everyone in the Coalition, and she asked them everything she could think of: how the weather conditions had been, about their dealings with a friendly tribe of Avvar, about how their journey to Skyhold had been.  The ones who had looked uncertain, after arriving in Skyhold, seemed to relax as she conversed with them.

Eventually she excused herself, leaving to grab a bowl of stew from the kitchens.  She ended up eating with Solas and Varric, both of whom peppered her with questions about the Coalition members who’d just arrived.

“Thought there’d be more of you,” Varric admitted.

“There are more of us,” Wynn said, amused.  “I had Leliana tell them to arrive in smaller groups.  Safer, in case the Inquisition didn’t keep its word. Which was always a possibility, even if I do trust you all.  Mostly.”

“A wise precaution,” Solas said.  “I must say, as... controversial as your actions have been, they are all very impressive.  Disciplined. Hardened. You were not exaggerating about how much of a help they would be.”

“No kidding,” Varric said.

Once Wynn finished eating, she left to check in on Evert and Harama, who were both happily reuniting with Xyfandel and the others.  They were gathered together in the southeast tower, having already claimed bedrolls. Some were playing a game of Wicked Grace, others merely conversing.  

Wynn watched them from the door for a while, the darkness keeping her hidden.  Eventually, after her heart grew heavy, she retired for the evening.

* * *

 

Skyhold was near-silent at night.

Wynn had awoken at what she guessed was a few hours before dawn, and, unable to sleep, had made her way to the top of the northwest tower, the only one with all its floor relatively intact.  Edric hadn’t complained once during the climb, though she was sure he must’ve been exasperated by her restlessness. 

From the top (which was partially exposed to the elements, since a chunk had been taken out of it) she could see the valley, as well as the surrounding mountains.  Within Skyhold, the occasional flicker of torches signified the movement of guards. Beyond the fortress walls, however, everything was still.

Eventually, noise from below told her that someone was climbing up to her.  There was a thud as whoever her visitor was sat next to her, and Wynn looked up to see Evert’s horns silhouetted in the moonlight.

“In spite of your constant thrashing,” he said, “you always were a light sleeper.”

“Mm.”  Wynn looked back out over the valley.  “And you? What’s your excuse?”

“Nightmare.”

Wynn closed her eyes and sighed, hearing a scraping sound as Edric moved further away.  “Par Vollen or Ostwick?”

“Par Vollen, this time,” he said.  “They were coming for me with a needle and thread.  I wasn’t sure where you were, after I woke up. You weren’t in your tent, so I panicked a bit and used a tracking spell.”

Wynn scooted closer to him so that their sides were pressed together, and he put an arm around her shoulders.  “Whenever you need me, feel free to use a tracking spell.”

Evert didn’t reply to that straight away, and when she looked back up at him, his lips were pursed.

“I hear they created a phylactery for you,” he said.

Wynn felt a twinge of guilt.  “That they did.”

“Why?  They haven’t asked any of us to give our blood.  Plus, we’re not saddled with Templar guards at all hours of the day.  Do they know about...?”

“Yes.”

Evert sucked in a breath.

“I used it to threaten them,” she said, her voice hollow.  “And again to defend myself against Corypheus. And... I think I used it to stay alive, after that fight.  I’m not sure, I don’t really remember.”

“Vashedan,” Evert grumbled.  “This is why I hate it when you go off and do things on your own.”

“They haven’t killed me yet,” Wynn pointed out.

“Lucky you.”

Evert had been against Wynn going to the Conclave, right from the very start.  Oh he’d helped her forge her documents, and he agreed to keep the Thorn Coalition safe while she was gone, but he’d still argued with her right up until the day she’d left.  Still - none of them could have predicted what would happen at the Conclave. Wynn still didn’t even know what had happened, precisely.

“I haven’t had cause to regret my actions yet,” Wynn said.  “If I hadn’t been there, well... the world could have ended, by now.  I don’t know. I don’t like to think about what would have happened, if Cassandra and I didn’t have our Anchors.”

“And after?” Evert asked.

Wynn frowned.  “After this is over, I’ll do what I have to do.  But if the rest of you tire of fighting, and if the Inquisition offers you amnesty as repayment for fighting on their side against Corypheus...”

“Whatever the others decide,” Evert said firmly, “I’m staying with you.”

“Evert - “

“Wynnedred.”

Wynn sighed again.  “Yes, alright. Nice to know your stubbornness hasn’t worn off.”

Evert relaxed, beaming at her.  “I’m glad you understand.”

Wynn elbowed him.

She’d known, really, that he wouldn’t be willing to just leave her behind.  They’d stuck together after meeting in the Circle, and in the year after escaping from it.  Evert always teased her that it was because she had yet to teach him how to summon a spirit blade.  They both knew better.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, more quietly.  “Now. I think everything is only going to get harder.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.”

They stayed that way until the sun rose above the mountains.


	17. Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY late chapter. I'm to blame, since I could barely put Assassin's Creed: Odyssey down in order to write this. It's also a pretty slow chapter, and was hard to write in and of itself.
> 
> There's an announcement about this story and its sequel at the end of the chapter.

The journey back to Skyhold was arduous.  It, combined with the news that Stroud had brought regarding the Wardens, was a welcome distraction from her thoughts about (and frustrations with) Wynn.  As they grew closer to reaching the keep, however, she felt a bit of dread return at the thought of seeing her again.

They were delayed by a sudden snowstorm, but still managed to make it back to Skyhold only a few hours late.  

Already the keep looked a bit less rundown than it had when Cassandra left.  Some of the stonework had been re-laid, and there were several scaffolding towers signifying that construction was ongoing.  Likely arranged at Josephine's behest; she had always stressed the necessity of making a good impression.

There was no sign of Wynn, but the presence of other Thorn Coalition members was apparent.  Their haphazard sets of armor and the almost-wild magic that Cassandra could sense around them gave them away.  Some were milling around in the training area, either watching or taking part in sparring sessions. Others were sitting around one of the fires in the courtyard, eating their morning meals.

Cassandra recognized only one of them - a tall elf, one of the captives from the Fallow Mire.  They appeared to be meditating some distance from the fire where their comrades were; Cassandra left them to it.

The Thorn Coalition mages paid her no mind, but the rest of the Inquisition seemed to perk up at the sight of her.  Several called out a greeting, which Cassandra returned in kind. Wynn's words about inspiring them came back to her, unbidden.

She shook away the thought.

The inside of the keep was cleaner.  The hall was warmed by the fires, and the window at the back had been cleaned enough that the light streaming through it actually made a difference.  Varric, it seemed, had decided to make his home next to one of the fireplaces. Cassandra quickened her pace at the sight of him - yet another person she did not wish to think about.

Josephine wasn't in her receiving room, leading Cassandra to believe that she, Cullen and Leliana were likely in the war room.  Sure enough, when she entered, all three of their heads snapped up at the same time. Cassandra spared the map they'd been staring at a quick glance before returning her attention to the room's occupants.

“We were expecting you back later,” Cullen said.  “We weren't sure how the storm would affect your travel.”

“We persevered,” Cassandra said.  Dorian had complained the entire way, but that hadn't stopped the rest of them.

“Do you have news?” Leliana asked, brow furrowed.  Cassandra was reminded that Leliana had a more personal stake in the Wardens than most.

She went over the more mundane details first - or as mundane as Crestwood's undead problem could be - and noted that she would need to return (with Wynn) at some point.  They did manage to capture the nearby keep for the Inquisition's use, so they at least had a foothold in the region.

“And Warden Stroud?” Leliana asked.

“He told me that the Wardens are hearing the Calling.  All of them.”

It wasn’t often that Leliana swore - usually, it was only when she was drunk (which had only happened once, in Cassandra’s memory) or when something so dire happened that she didn’t seem to know what else to say.  She’d done so after hearing the news of Kirkwall. Considering that Leliana knew far more about the Wardens than Cassandra did, the fact that she was this worried only made her sense of dread rise.

Cullen looked only marginally calmer.  “And you think Corypheus might have something to do with it?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Cassandra said.  “Hawke told me that he has used Wardens for his own ends before.”

“Only a small sect of them,” Leliana pointed out.  “If he is the one causing the Calling... he might be able to control  _ all  _ of them.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen sighed.  “If we end up squaring off against both the Wardens and the Red Templars, we won’t stand much of a chance.  There would be enough mage Wardens to keep even the Thorn Coalition busy, and that’s not even counting the rest of their ranks.”

“Stroud says that there was a summons for the Wardens to gather in the Western Approach, in two weeks’ time” Cassandra said.  “If we go, we might be able to figure out what exactly they are planning, and hopefully talk sense into them before they fall right into Corypheus’s trap.”

“And do you plan on bringing Wynn this time?” Leliana asked, raising an eyebrow.  “I think she’s getting antsy.”

Cassandra stiffened.  

“That’s a no, then.”

“I did not say that,” Cassandra snapped.

“Your caution is understandable,” Leliana said, raising her hands in a placating gesture.  “But you need her to close the rifts. I’m not saying you have to kiss and make up, but you were able to work together even back when there was still that initial animosity between the two of you.”

“She has been leaving the Templars with more bruises lately,” Cullen observed dryly.

“At any rate, the excursion is still a week away.”  Leliana folded her hands behind her back. “There is no need to make a decision now.”

The meeting went on for only a little bit longer, during which the three of them filled Cassandra in on what she had missed while she was gone.  A group of Thorn Coalition mages had arrived at Skyhold, as Cassandra had suspected, with more groups due to arrive within the next few days. 

“It was a precaution that Wynn took,” Leliana explained.  “One that I thought was reasonable.”

Apparently, said mages were proving to be both helpful and polite.  Cullen confirmed that they were excellent fighters, and that they would work especially well against Red Templars.  Josephine was happy to report that they were all surprisingly cordial, and were frugal to the point that they had each accepted a set of armor, but had refused to be issued new staffs and had taken one of the draftiest towers for their sleeping spot.  Leliana had been interviewing each mage (exempting Harama, who she explained was the woman who’d used blood magic) and had cleared nearly all of them.

“It seems almost too good to be true,” Cassandra admitted.

Leliana shrugged.  “I’m almost certain that Wynn has some other agenda.  We’ll have to worry about it once Corypheus is stopped.”

Josephine getting distracted by the papers on the war table was a sure sign that the meeting was drawing to a close, so Cassandra made to excuse herself.

“Just a moment,” Leliana said, putting a hand on her arm.

Cassandra blinked.

The three exchanged glances.  Cassandra tried to decipher the looks on their faces: Josephine’s eyebrows were drawn tightly together, Cullen’s mouth was twitching like he was trying not to smile, and Leliana’s face was blank.

“Out with it,” Cassandra said.

“We recently came to an agreement,” Josephine said.  “It is no longer acceptable for the Inquisition to continue on without an Inquisitor, and... we all think it should be you.”

Cassandra held herself very still, not even daring to breathe.  She could no longer delude herself into thinking that ignoring this would make it go away.

After finally allowing herself to breathe, she pulled the corners of her mouth up into something that was more of a grimace than a smile.  “I am honored,” she said, the words echoing hollowly in her throat.

Josephine and Cullen both visibly relaxed, with Josephine going so far as sighing.  Leliana, however, did no such thing. She eyed Cassandra knowingly, and folded her hands behind her back.

“It makes the most sense for it to be you,” she explained.  “You’re very passionate about the Inquisition. You were one of the people who went forward with its creation, aside from myself.  I’m not a good choice because my position requires me to be out of the public eye. You’re also one of the two people with the Anchor, and we all know why Wynn is no longer a possibility.”

Cassandra had wondered if they ever considered Wynn for the position.  Now she knew the answer.

“People are willing to follow you,” Leliana continued.  “Especially after what happened at Haven. They see you as -”

“Enough,” Cassandra interrupted.  “I do not need you to list the reasons, Leliana.  I told you I am honored. It’s the truth. And you know that I will do what needs to be done.”

Leliana’s arms fell back to her sides.  “I know.”

“There is, of course, the matter of the ceremony...” Josephine began.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes.  “What ceremony?”

* * *

 

One day later found most of the non-military members of the Inquisition running around like chickens without heads.  In spite of Josephine’s grumbling about the short amount of time to prepare, she had Skyhold whipped into a frenzy. Most of that involved informing as many people as possible when the induction would take place (sunhigh) and where (the courtyard).  

Cassandra had nearly sagged in relief when she was told that she would be wearing armor, albeit a brand new set that gleamed in the sunlight and had the Inquisition’s symbol emblazoned on the breastplate.  Fond as she was of her old armor, Cassandra admired the workmanship of her new set, and made a note to thank Harritt as soon as possible.

Less enjoyable was the buzz that followed her wherever she went in the hours leading up to the ceremony.  Though Inquisition members were only told of a ‘special announcement’, speculation was already rife. Those who worked for the Chantry, and were therefore familiar with the Inquisition’s history, were able to guess as to what would take place, but other rumors varied wildly in their accuracy.

Some believed that the announcement would finally explain the sudden influx of battle-worn mages.  Others wanted to know more about Corypheus and his plans. Still others assumed that there would be a marriage announcement (something that Cassandra didn’t even want to contemplate).  The only one that made her flinch, however, was the whisper by some of the mages that the Inquisition was having DeFleur executed.

That last was, fortunately, few and far between.

When the hour finally came, the Inquisition started to gather in the courtyard, which was soon full to bursting.  Aside from the advisors ( _ her _ advisors, Cassandra realized), the rest of the Inner Circle was gathered at the bottom of the steps up to the keep.  Fiona’s mages were lined up along the walls. Regular soldiers and templars were standing at parade rest, likely due to Cullen’s influence.  The 30-or-so members of the Thorn Coalition that had already arrived were grouped together in a corner, and the rest of the Inquisition was scattered among the different factions.  

Cassandra was still near the top of the steps, hidden from view by a conveniently placed shrub.  She could make out most of the faces in the crowd. She found herself searching for one in particular; to her surprise, Wynn was speaking to Fiona, with Lysette hovering a few steps away.  Judging by the grim looks on both mages’ faces, the topic of conversation was not a happy one.

The induction was quick, for all of Josephine’s hair-pulling.  Cassandra waited, then descended the steps and accepted the ceremonial sword from Leliana.  The Inquisition responded with triumphant yells and the stomping of feet. For a brief moment, looking at the sea of hopeful faces, Cassandra felt ready for the responsibility.

That feeling evaporated the first time someone actually addressed her as ‘Inquisitor’, which was only a few moments later.

“Your Inquisitorialness,” Dorian said, bowing.  

Cassandra punched him in the shoulder, making him wince.  “Do  _ not  _ start calling me that,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my lady fancy britches,” Dorian replied.

Cassandra gaped at him, too surprised to even hit him this time.  “Did you just-”

Dorian shrugged.  “I figured you could use some humanizing.  You’ve been spending all these months being a Herald of Andraste, and now as far as most of these people are concerned, you’re Andraste herself.  Can’t have it going to your head.”

Cassandra was startled into laughing.  “No, we cannot have that,” she said. She paused, letting her smile slip off her face.  “I need to announce the truth about Wynn.”

“What truth?” Dorian asked, his eyebrows pinching together.  “That she’s a - ?”

“Of course not,” Cassandra snapped, then switched to a calmer tone.  “I just mean that we’ve never officially told anyone why she’s being treated like a prisoner.  There have been rumors aplenty, and though many people know that it’s largely because she’s DeFleur, there are also many who do not know the truth at all.  They should.”

Dorian regarded her from the corner of his eye.  “You realize that they probably deserve to know about what she is, too, yes?  But everyone agreed that it was too dangerous for people to know.”

“I’m aware of that,” Cassandra said, sighing.  “Which is why I’m going to take a few days to prepare.  I want to get this right. I want both curiosity and worry to be appeased.  But words have never been my strong suit, so the extra time is needed.”

“And in the meantime?” he asked.  “What do you intend to do with your newfound power, Inquisitor?”

“Nothing,” she replied.  “Unless I am needed for some other... announcement, I see no reason why things cannot continue as they already have.”

“Would that they could,” Dorian said, patting her shoulder.  “You do realize that every visiting dignitary is going to want to meet you?  Only now your refusal will often be seen as an insult, rather than necessity.”

“Ugh.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage it.”

In spite of his teasing tone, one look at Dorian’s face told Cassandra that he meant it.

“Thank you,” she said.

They parted ways as they reached the keep, with Dorian heading for the library and Cassandra heading back to the war room.  Though many heads turned to regard her as she passed, she held her head high and didn’t spare any of them a glance. Josephine probably would have wanted her to mingle a bit more, but Cassandra had no intention of indulging the ambassador unless she insisted.

Speaking of Josephine.

“Good,” the ambassador said, guiding her over to her desk by the elbow.  “You’re here. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Cassandra blinked.  “Already?”

Josephine rolled her eyes.  “Inquisitor, the moment you officially accepted your new title, your to-do list went from one to ten.  I’m just lucky I caught you first.”

“You’re lucky - “  Cassandra cut herself off.  “Who else is looking for me?”

“A Chantry mother, a couple of dukes from Orlais, and that’s just the start,” Josephine said, sitting behind her desk, and giving her a soft smile.  “Your attention will be in high demand from now on. You’re going to have to be careful who you prioritize. That’s what I want to discuss with you before you do get caught up by anyone else.”

“I’m listening.”

Josephine leaned forward in her chair, steepling her fingers beneath her chin.  “An example - and please, hear me out before you start protesting. The first person you spoke to after the ceremony was Dorian.  People are going to notice.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to protest, but Josephine held up a hand.  “I asked you to hear me out. I’m not saying that Dorian is what many claim him to be: a spy, a bad person.  He’s been very helpful. But the fact that you chose to speak to him before you spoke to anyone else is going to make people think you have sympathies with Tevinter, no matter how untrue that may actually be.”

Realizing that she was breathing more harshly, Cassandra drew in a deep breath and exhaled, feeling a small amount of tension leaving her frame.

“And I suppose,” she said, keeping her tone even, “that it’s best if I’m not seen with him, for now?”

“I’m not seeing don’t spend time with him at all,” Josephine said quickly.  “That’s absurd, especially since you’ve been close friends since Redcliffe. But take care who observes the two of you.  Same goes with others under scrutiny - Wynn, being another example.”

Cassandra held back a snort.  Josephine didn’t need to tell her not to be seen near Wynn.

“Either way,” Josephine said, “Don’t stress about it too much.  So long as you keep most of your conversations behind closed doors, or in places like the library, it shouldn’t matter.  Visiting dignitaries will be staying on this side of the keep, not the other.”

“It feels like I am degrading them,” Cassandra muttered.

“I know.”  Josephine sighed.  “This is a difficult position.  But I’m glad you accepted, Cassandra.  You’re exactly the person we need right now.”

“I’m glad you believe that, Josephine,” Cassandra said.   _ Because I’m not sure I do. _

* * *

 

The next few days proved that Cassandra’s worst fears were coming true: the majority of the work that she had to do as Inquisitor involved escorting visitors through Skyhold, making sure her face was shown at the right meetings, and paperwork.  She spent far more time at a desk than she was accustomed to, and by the end of the first day she was ready to chuck all her writing tools out of the window.

The more interesting component of her new position was welcoming new arrivals to Skyhold - specifically, the remainder of the Thorn Coalition.  As promised, they arrived in groups of about ten or twenty, and there were eight groups in total. It was not a large force, by any means, but considering the fact that nearly every member was a mage, their combined power was considerable.

The real surprise was seeing the few non-mages in their ranks.  Most were former servants, who used to work in the Circles. But there were two that Cassandra couldn’t help but notice.

They were both in the same group - the last group.  Both were young, and both seemed completely at ease around the mages.  Cassandra even watched as they were greeted by Wynn and Evert with embraces and warm words, and she resolved to ask about them as soon as possible.

“They’re as much a surprise to me as they are to you,” Leliana admitted, when Cassandra cornered her.  “Their names are Rhynea and Matrim, and yes, they’re both Templars. Not very experienced ones, but they completed their training before they joined the Thorn Coalition.”

“Did they say why they felt compelled to join?” Cassandra asked.

“They did,” Leliana said.  “They’re from Ostwick, originally.  Wynn played a substantial part in their training, since that was her role in the Circle.  In time, it seems they came to respect her more and more and trust their superiors less and less.  They told me that when they discovered what the Senior Enchanter and Knight Commander were planning, they were the ones who went to Wynn with that information.  They thought she deserved to know, and they think that mages deserve their freedom.”

Cassandra frowned.  “How does Cullen plan to integrate them into our forces?”

“You’d have to ask him,” Leliana answered.  

Now that every Thorn Coalition member was present and accounted for, Cassandra knew that she would have to turn her attention to other matters.  Namely, what to do with Wynn now that she’d kept her end of the deal, and how to handle the Grey Wardens.

It was while pondering such thoughts that Cassandra found herself back in Leliana’s rookery.  Almost none of her ravens were present, having been sent out on various tasks by Leliana and her spies.  The rookery was almost absent of people as well, apart from Leliana herself.

The spymaster was hunched over a table covered haphazardly in letters, reports, and maps.  She didn’t even seem to hear Cassandra’s approach, though just before Cassandra reached the table she looked up and shot her a tired smile in greeting.

“Cassandra,” she said, her voice rough.  Leliana had been spending too many nights without sleep, or so Cassandra heard.  “What can I do for you?”

“I need some advice,” Cassandra answered.  “I am not certain what the right action to take is, with regards to Wynn.”

Leliana blinked, then straightened.  “Let’s sit down for this.”

There weren’t many chairs in the rookery, and the two that they did find looked so spindly that Cassandra was afraid hers would crack under her weight.  Leliana had no such hesitation, however, and after she sat in her chair without incident, Cassandra did the same.

“Have you had any ideas about it?” Leliana asked.

Cassandra held back a snort.  The day before she had thought of little else; her inattention to her surroundings nearly led to her falling down the stairs.  More than once.

“Yes,” she said.  “I’ve considered execution.  I also believe that that is both too extreme and something we can’t risk.  As promised, she hasn’t lost control once since Haven, and we don’t know what will happen with the Anchor if she dies.  I’ve considered imprisoning her indefinitely, but I don’t know how the rest of the Inquisition will take that. Then there’s sending her to Orlais to stand trial, which would likely lead to her execution anyway.”

Leliana hummed.  “You’re probably right about the Inquisition not reacting well to permanent imprisonment,” she said.  “She’s become a hero to too many of them. Plus, I think that the Thorn Coalition could become unpredictable, if we were to throw her into one of the cells.  It’s best if we keep them as helpful as possible.”

“I agree,” Cassandra said.  “Which is why I’m considering putting her on an official trial.  Only...”

“Only you don’t know who would defend her?”

“Yes.”  Cassandra folded her arms.  “I can think of at least one person who would be happy to be the accuser.”

Leliana shrugged.  “Then I’ll defend her.  You can’t, as I’m assuming you’ll be the judge.  Since you’re now the Inquisitor, that’s what people will expect.”

Cassandra felt a bit off-kilter, having not expected her conundrum to be resolved so easily.  “Why you?”

“I admire her.”  At Cassandra’s look, she chuckled.  “Surely you’re not that surprised? She’s managed to lead a group of mages to make many successful attacks on circle towers and groups of templars alike, and she hasn’t gotten many of her people killed.  She’s smart, careful, charismatic. Regardless of her side in the mage-templar war, she’s impressive.”

“Dangerous,” Cassandra countered.

Leliana held her gaze.  “Most leaders of her caliber are.”

Unable to dispute that, Cassandra nodded and stood.  “I’ll leave you to prepare, then, since I suspect you will have to.  The Maker knows Vivienne will be doing the same.”

“I’m aware.”  Leliana shooed her away, turning her attention back to her pile of papers.  “I’m sure you have other matters to attend to, Inquisitor.”

Cassandra left the rookery feeling only a bit more confident.  The trial would take place in two weeks. She had an prosecutor and a defender.  But ultimately the decision would be up to her. She knew that, regardless of the evidence that was put forward, it was the consequences of that decision that would sway her opinion on the matter.

Her stomach churned at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may already know about this, since I talked about it a bit on Tumblr. I'm not planning on writing the sequel to this anymore, and I don't really have a way of wrapping this up neatly in the last few chapters. I don't think I have the motivation to keep going with it.
> 
> I'm planning to step back from longer fanfiction altogether, and instead focus on original works. I will, however, still write one-shots and answer prompts. If you want to see more Wynn and Cassandra, feel free to prompt me in my Tumblr askbox! 
> 
> Thanks for understanding. If you want to move on from this story now, feel free.


	18. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much of an author's note today. Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy!

It was still dark out when Wynn was shaken awake.

She sat up with a muffled groan, immediately cupping her hands together and breathing into them.  Her warming spell only made her feel more sleepy, but she forced herself to stand, squinting in order to make out the form of Edric standing before her.  

“You’re being deployed,” he told her.

_ That  _ got Wynn to wake up more fully.  She quickly gathered up the few things she had, throwing them into her travel pack.  Edric was glaring at her by the time she finished securing her bedroll to her pack, and they set off through the near-deserted courtyard at a near-jog.

They made a brief stop at the forge, where she had a new staff thrust into her hands.  The power that thrummed through it was considerable, but it was slightly off balance. Wynn said none of that, instead thanking the woman who’d handed it her with a tight smile.  She really needed to get to work on making her own staff, one of these days.

The stables were their next stop, where Wynn found Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Cole all preparing horses.  She was surprised by Cassandra’s choices, but said nothing about them. Instead, she headed over to a brown gelding that she’d used before.  Her chosen horse nudged her lightly with his head, but otherwise held perfectly still while she put the saddle on.

Though the scene itself was familiar, there were details about it that rubbed Wynn the wrong way.  Ordinarily, they would only have two horses, and would have to double up. Now that they were at Skyhold, however, they’d managed to secure the help of Dennet personally, who brought all his horses with him.  There would also usually be some friendly pre-travel conversation. Instead, silence reigned as Wynn fastened her saddle to the gelding.

She didn’t know where they were going.  She couldn’t even hazard a guess, except to say that wherever it was, it must’ve had open fade rifts.  

Edric waited near the entrance to the stables until they were all mounted on their horses, at which point he bowed in Cassandra’s direction and turned and vanished into the darkness.  Wynn glanced at Cassandra, realizing that she was going to be the one guarding her while they were gone from Skyhold, and tried to ignore the sensation of her stomach sinking like a stone.

What had she expected?  Things weren’t going to go back to the way they were.  Even if she and Cassandra had still been on friendly terms, Cassandra could hardly afford to be seen being lenient with her.

They rode out from Skyhold with the same silence weighing down over them.  Even Cole, who tended to run at the mouth when he was around other people, didn’t make so much as a peep.  Iron Bull could normally be counted on for at least one story about the Chargers, but he was riding behind Wynn; she couldn’t even see his face, let alone gauge how he felt about all this.

After the sun rose above the mountain peaks, Wynn was able to figure out that they were heading northeast.  They rode through the day without stopping, and had just reached the Frostback foothills when the sun began to descend once again.  The foothills were noticeably warmer than the mountains themselves, and Wynn had shed her outer cloak by the end of the day. 

Her new armor gleamed in the sun, the one thing she’d been able to get after her imprisonment.  It was sturdier than her last set, but still allowed her to move around freely. It matched the ones that the rest of the Thorn Coalition had received after Leliana had cleared them, and Wynn had felt a surge of pride the first time she saw them all gathered together, wearing proper armor instead of stolen, mismatched pieces.

They set up camp on top of a small ridge, overlooking a stretch of forest.  Wynn hadn’t had time to grab provisions before they left, but Bull had apparently packed enough for two - he handed her a hunk of bread and some cheese before sitting down with his own meal.  Wynn ate slowly, then went to sit on the ridge, letting her legs dangle over the side.

The sun was setting behind her, and it cast the forest in a reddish light.  Wynn felt her fingers and toes start to go cold as the light faded, but she didn’t move.

Eventually, Cole sat next to her.

“Everyone was so loud today,” he said without preamble.

“Loud,” Wynn stated flatly.  “Really.”

“Not the way you think,” he said.  “Nobody spoke, but their thoughts were shouts.  Yours are a bit quieter than theirs. You thrive on uncertainty.  Thrill at the unknown, making snap decisions, never knowing what tomorrow will bring.”

“Thanks, I think?”  Wynn shifted, realizing that her bottom had grown numb.  “Do you know where we’re going?”

“A place where there is always darkness,” he answered.  “The dead rise up, too many, but the guilt is the real enemy, sitting heavily on everyone there... and rain, always rain, why is it never dry?  Oh. That’s not what you wanted to know.”

“No, but it does give me some idea of what to expect.”

“I think it’s called Crestwood?”

Wynn blinked.  She’d only ever seen the small town on a map, and she knew next to nothing about it.  Well, she used to; now she knew that it was apparently ‘always dark’ and infested with undead.  

“Sounds lovely,” she muttered.

Now it was Cole’s turn to blink.  “Why do you say it sounds lovely when you mean the opposite?”

Their conversation turned into an hour-long discussion about the purpose of sarcasm, and how to use it.  By the time Wynn and Cole decided that they were better off getting some sleep, she still wasn’t sure he completely understood, but he had taken the lesson very seriously.  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that he might still not understand.

Just as she was about to crawl into her bedroll, she felt eyes on her.  She glanced up in time to see Cassandra, who was taking the first watch, look away, her gaze distant.  Wynn felt a pang, and for a moment she was tempted to go over and try to talk to her. Her nerve gave out before she could even stand up, however, and she burrowed into her bedroll.  

Maybe some sleep would make tomorrow feel less strange.

* * *

 

Cole’s description of Crestwood turned out to be even more accurate than Wynn had thought.

Her cloak was soaked through within minutes.  Her warming spells kept her from freezing, but that didn’t stop her from being miserable.  It must’ve been the middle of the day, but the cloud cover from the storm was so thick that it almost felt like it was nighttime.  It made her dread what actual nighttime would be like. She had a feeling that they weren’t going to be able to see more than a foot in front of them.

“There’s a fade rift under where the lake used to be,” Cassandra told her, speaking to her for the first time since... well, since their argument.  “It’s causing corpses to walk out of it and attack the village. Based on what the mayor told us, I believe that they’re from the people who died when Old Crestwood flooded, during the Blight.”

“And we’re here to close it,” Wynn deduced.

“Yes.”

There was more that Cassandra wasn’t telling her, judging by the way she refused to look Wynn in the eye.  Wynn decided to let it go.

The village itself wasn’t much more cheerful than the surrounding countryside.  Many of the homes were abandoned, their windows dark. The owners of the houses that were occupied did little more than peer out through their doorways, their faces terrified, before they slammed them closed.

“Charming place,” Bull muttered.

Wynn felt Rage stir, made restless by the umbra than hung over the town.  She ignored it, knowing that there would be trouble if Rage somehow managed to take control here.  

They didn’t stop in the village, instead continuing to ride until they made it down to old Crestwood.  There were only skeletons of houses here, and in spite of the number of dead shambling around, there were still more bodies lying inert in the sand.  An occasional orange glow signified that spirits inhabited the village too, and Wynn felt a shiver travel up her spine as they entered the town-turned-graveyard.

Of course.  Her first time leaving Skyhold since they found it, and Cassandra brought her to the worst place in Thedas.  

Her anchor sparked, for the first time in weeks.  A tingle ran up her arm, confirming what Cassandra had told her about the rift being beneath the lake.  

“This way,” Cassandra said, trudging towards a house that overlooked the rest of the old Crestwood.  “The cave is behind the mayor’s old house.”

One of the spirits drifted closer to their group, likely out of curiosity.  It halted a few feet away from Wynn, and it spoke. Its voice was so quiet that she doubt anyone else heard, but its word was clear to her.

“ _ Abomination. _ ”

Even spirits believed that what she was was fundamentally wrong.

If the outside had been dark, the cave was pitch-black.  Wynn moved a few steps towards Cassandra, then said, “I can keep a sustained fire spell going above us.  It should be enough to light our way.”

Cassandra eyed her.  Wynn met her gaze. They both knew what she wasn’t saying.

“Fine.”

Wynn stared into the darkness, reaching within and prodding at Rage.  She allowed it to wake up, but only enough that a ring of flame appeared above the group, bright enough to illuminate the damp cavern.  Looking at Cassandra now caused Wynn to feel a surge of irritation, so she kept her eyes firmly on the ground before her.

“After you,” she said, waving ahead of her.

Cassandra was in the lead, with Cole following silently behind her, Wynn following him, and Iron Bull bringing up the rear.  With Rage powering her fire spell, Wynn barely had to worry about dividing her concentration on between it and any fights that might be waiting for them.  She knew that her eyes were glowing, just a bit.

They encountered their first group of undead on a spiral staircase.  It led further down into the darkness, and was littered with Terrors and Shades.  Though she was a bit rusty from being kept out of the action for the past few weeks, Wynn quickly got back into the swing of things.  It was almost too easy to burn some of the demons, and to run her spirit blade through others.

It was after she fade-stepped onto a particularly rickety part of the staircase that she realized her mistake.

Cassandra let out a shout as the wood cracked beneath her feet.  Wynn felt one sickening moment where she was suspended, weightless, before she was pulled down as well.  She barely had enough time to throw the beginnings of a barrier spell around her before she plummeted, hitting the length of stairwell beneath her.  Unable to stop herself, she rolled off of that as well, falling through the air for what seemed like forever before she hit the mercilessly hard cave floor.

More shouts came from above her.  Wynn winced as pain lanced through her chest when she tried to breathe, her ribcage apparently not completely healed from Haven.  Miraculously, though, her barrier spell seemed to have done its job. She forced herself to her feet, dispatching the demons that had fallen with her, and then found a wall to lean against while she waited.

Every breath she took hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain she’d been in during Haven.

Cole was the first to make it the rest of the way down the stairwell.  “You’re hurt,” he said.

“Not badly,” Wynn said.

His eyes were visible, thanks to her still-sustained fire spell, and they were focused on the tunnel in front of them.  “The worst of the darkness lies ahead. You will be needed, then.”

Wynn wasn’t sure if he meant the rift under the lake, or their conflict with Corypheus in general.

Cassandra and Bull took a few more minutes to find their way down.  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“Just a bit bruised,” Wynn assured her.  

Cassandra’s eyes moved down to Wynn’s chest, as though she somehow knew exactly where Wynn was in pain.  She didn’t call Wynn out on it, though. Instead she jerked her head towards the tunnel, leading the way once again.

With the pain from her ribcage distracting her, it was more difficult to keep her ring of flames sustained.  She was grateful when she was able to see a faint light up ahead, and she let her flames dim, then go out completely once they reached the light source.

“Maker,” Cassandra murmured.

Whatever they had been expecting to find down there, it hadn’t been a dwarven ruin.  The stonework gave off its own auburn glow, providing enough light for them see without Wynn’s fire.  There weren’t any undead in sight, so Wynn deduced that the villagers had never come down this far before the flooding.  The fade rift had to be further ahead, however, since they hadn’t encountered it yet.

They kept moving, the dwarven stonework proving to be far easier to walk on.  Wynn tensed when Cassandra dropped back to speak with her.

“Your injuries,” she said.  “They haven’t fully healed yet, have they?”

Wynn scowled.  “They have, for the most - “  She broke off and hissed as Cassandra purposefully nudged her breastplate.  

“I thought not,” she said.

“The fall just exacerbated it,” Wynn said, gritting her teeth.  “I’ll be fine once we’re done here.”

“Hmm.”  She didn’t dare to look at Cassandra.  “I want you doing range magic. No spirit blade attacks, no fade steps.  Between Iron Bull, Cole, and myself, there will be plenty of us to take care of close-up fighting.”

“I’m faster than any of you,” Wynn pointed out, folding her arms.

“Not like this.”

Cassandra didn’t wait for her to agree, speeding up her pace so that she was at the front again.  Wynn frowned at her back; Cassandra had never before had any problem with her putting herself in danger.  If anything, she’d been under the impression that it would be expected of her on this trip.

They encountered a few smaller groups of demons, which they dispatched easily, before they found the fade rift.  It was large enough to fill the entire cavern, and looking at it made nausea roll around in Wynn’s stomach. It seemed like there was a small army of demons beneath it, and once those demons realized they were there, there wasn’t much time for thought.

Wynn found herself grateful for Cassandra’s order, as even the slightest movement set her ribs aflame.  She kept to the sidelines, but immolated demons whenever she could put up walls of fire when the need arose.  She even managed to summon up another barrier, albeit a weak one, to protect Cole from being hit by ice shards.  When the first wave was vanquished, she set down several fire mines in the places where the demons would appear, and was gratified to hear them scream as they were set alight.

Bull and Cole worked surprisingly well together, with Cole lingering in Bull’s shadow and using the distraction that Bull provided to his advantage (and watching Bull’s back at the same time).  But it left Cassandra fighting the demons on her own, and Wynn spotted a terror coming up behind her while Cassandra dealt with two shades in the front.

Without really thinking about it, she fade-stepped over and ran the terror through.

Wynn kept herself standing through sheer force of will after that, until all the demons were either dying or dead.  She automatically lifted her hand towards the rift, grimacing at the feeling of power being pulled towards her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cassandra doing the same.

The rift closed with a snap, leaving them in an eerily silent cavern.  Wynn breathed in and out, as slowly as possible, grimacing when she thought of the journey she still had to make back outside.

“Well,” Bull said, “that should at least take care of the undead.”

“There will never be true peace here,” Cole murmurs, “but there is now something closer to it.”

* * *

 

The storm had cleared by the time they climbed out of the cave.  Wynn didn’t know if that was because they’d closed the rift, or if it was just a happy coincidence.  She didn’t really care, either, just grateful to have the sun warming her and drying her clothes. 

They made their way back to Crestwood to tell the people that they were safe, only to find that the mayor had fled.

“Coward!” Wynn snarled.  “He murdered his own people and then ran.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Cassandra said.

“I am not,” she said.   “You told me that the dam wasn’t damaged.  It would’ve been, if darkspawn had caused the flood.  If it was just some bandits who flooded the village during the Blight, then why would he say it was Darkspawn?”

Her hands were shaking, and she was half-blinded by pain by now, but she refused to let this go.  Cassandra wanted more proof before she threw around accusations. Deep down, Wynn knew she was right, but she was loathe to admit it.

“I’ll have Leliana investigate the matter further,” Cassandra said.  “You need a healer, and soon.”

Fortunately, there was one such healer at Caer Bronach - an elderly human mage who tutted at Wynn’s state, but was able to dull the pain with a couple of spells.  He also put her back on bedrest, however, and she was less happy about that.

“This is what happens when I’m kept idle for too long,” she said to the ceiling.

Her room at least had a window, and a fireplace.  The cold from the stone beneath her still managed to seep up into her bedroll, and she found herself needing to use her warming spells more than once.  She dozed off a few times throughout the day, until she woke and there was no more light streaming in through the window. 

She also had a visitor.

“I thought we should speak,” Cassandra said.

She was standing near the fireplace, not looking at Wynn.  Wynn squinted, just barely able to make out the shadows beneath Cassandra’s eyes, and the pronounced frown lines that spoke of a long day.  

“You  _ think  _ we should?” she asked.  “Does that mean you want to, or that you feel that we must?”

Cassandra was silent for a long time after she asked that.  Wynn found herself staring at her, willing her to meet her eyes for once.  When the answer finally came, she let out a long breath.

“I want to.”

“Alright.”  Wynn knew that sitting up was futile, so she gestured for Cassandra to sit down in the chair that was next to the fireplace.  Cassandra did so, albeit slowly.

They were both silent for a long time.  Wynn was suddenly at a loss for words, unable to summon up any kind of feeling.  She thought of the weeks after arriving at Skyhold, and how she threw herself into research to keep herself from thinking about how Cassandra wouldn’t so much as look at her.  

“I’m still angry,” Cassandra finally said.  “I -”

“Then be angry with me,” Wynn said, cutting her off.  “But don’t be silent. Stop being silent. You can’t keep pretending I don’t exist.”

“Do you know how it felt?” Cassandra asked, her voice rising.  “How it felt to be staring you down, realizing that you were seconds away from burning me alive?  As though nothing either of us had been through meant a single thing to you. You were willing to kill me, but you were powerful enough that you wouldn’t have had to.  I know you are!”

Wynn took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge in her ribs.  “Of course I know,” she said. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about the Templars who murdered my sister in front of me, and how they would’ve killed me too, if I’d been just a bit older than I was.  Or the day I finally confronted Lydia about everything she’d done to me, only to have her say that she’d hoped I would die during my harrowing.”

She took another breath, willing herself to stay calm.  “But you’re right. I wouldn’t have needed to kill you. But I would have.  And I’m sorry. You’re not them.”

For the first time, Cassandra looked at her.

“You think I didn’t used to have that instinct?” she said.  “The need to lash out when I was threatened? My brother was killed by a group of mages, and I only survived by hiding just out of sight.  It took years of training for me to finally stop resorting to violence in situations of confrontation. Training that you never had. I understand that.  But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be able to get that image of you out of my head anytime soon.”

There was some irony in their conversation, somewhere, but Wynn was too tired to find it.  

“Fine,” she whispered.  “But don’t be silent. Please.  I’ll take your anger over that.”

She held Cassandra’s gaze until Cassandra gave her a single nod.  Cassandra stood, and Wynn thought she was going to leave, but instead she made her way over to sit on the ground next to Wynn.  

“You were reckless today,” she said.  

Wynn chuckled.  “I’m always reckless.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be.”

This was familiar.  She was used to Cassandra’s admonishments regarding how she fought, and it was enough of a relief to have them back that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.  A smile broke out on her face before she could stop it, and the one she received in answer brought a few spilling out the corners of her eyes. 

She turned her face away to hide them, but was stopped by Cassandra’s hand on her shoulder.  

“No more hiding,” Cassandra said firmly.

Wynn nodded.  “No more hiding,” she promised.


	19. Trial

Cassandra and Wynn spent a scant couple of weeks relearning the boundaries of their friendship.  

Wynn started walking around Skyhold with her head held high, as though there weren’t a guard following her at all times.  Indeed, Cassandra would often find herself dismissing Lysette whenever she and Wynn were meeting, trusting herself to be the only guard Wynn needed.  It suddenly seemed easier to breathe, now that she didn’t have to worry about avoiding Wynn.

Every so often she would remember Josephine’s words about being careful who she was seen speaking to.  Although Cassandra didn’t usually speak to Wynn when she was expecting visiting dignitaries (and, since Wynn never made an effort to find her, she suspected Wynn knew why), she wasn’t as careful as Josephine would have preferred.

“Fortunately,” Josephine said, not even glancing up from the papers in front of her, “No one seems perturbed by it.  They’re under the impression that because the two of you still have the Anchor, that you need to confer with one another often.  Or maybe they’re just used to this behavior from the two of you because of Haven. I’m not sure. But you do need to think about how this will impact the upcoming trial.”

Cassandra had told Wynn about the trial shortly after they left Crestwood.  Wynn had taken the news with a shrug and a “I trust Leliana”, which came as a surprise to Cassandra, considering Wynn’s earlier reaction to Leliana during their interrogation of Harama.

Tensions rose as the date of the trial approached.  The whispers that usually followed both Wynn and Cassandra had increased to more of a buzz.  Leliana told Cassandra that the majority of the Inquisition was concerned that it would end in Wynn’s execution, but a sizeable amount were wondering if Wynn would be pardoned, and they made their displeasure towards that possibility known.

“You might be surprised by the number of Templars who would be troubled if she’s executed,” Leliana noted.  “Especially since two of the Thorn Coalition members are Templars themselves. Likewise, you might also be surprised by the number of Fiona’s mages who are frightened by Wynn and what she’s capable of.”

Considering that Wynn’s accuser was a mage herself, Cassandra did not find that very surprising.

The day before the trial found Cassandra and Wynn in the war room.  Wynn was leaning against the table, looking as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

“You won’t be allowed to speak for yourself,” Cassandra warned.  “I hope you have met with Leliana beforehand, to figure out what she’s going to say?”

“I have.”  Wynn eyed her.  “I need to ask you - is this an excuse to pardon me, Cassandra?  Or is it genuine?”

Cassandra shifted where she stood, internally wincing at how right Wynn was.  “It’s as genuine as I can make it.”

“Hmm.”  Wynn straightened up.  “Keep me under guard.”

Cassandra blinked.  “What?”

“That’s my minimum sentence,” Wynn told her.  “If you do intend to pardon me - and I must say, your sense of fairness leaves that in doubt - then at least do that much.  It should appease the people who are baying for my blood. And it will leave Vivienne more at ease.”

“And... you don’t mind.  Being under guard.”

Wynn shrugged.  “I like Lysette.  Edric, less so, but I’m usually sleeping while he’s guarding me.”

Cassandra agreed to do so, but something else Wynn said niggled at her.  “What do you mean,” she asked, “my sense of fairness leaves that in doubt’?”

“I mean, I don’t think you’re able to treat this as any kind of sham,” Wynn said, her lips curving into a small smile.  “Leliana and Josephine and others - they want you to do what needs to be done, and you need me to win against Corypheus.  But I think you’ll still treat this trial as real, because that’s the kind of person you are. It’s not a bad thing.”

“It might be,” Cassandra countered.  “For all intents and purposes, we’re at war.”

“We are,” Wynn agreed.  “But if you believe that me being dragged to the battlefield in chains is the justice I deserve, then that’s what you’ll do.”

She said it like it was a matter of fact, like it didn’t matter to her in the slightest.  Cassandra stared at her, trying to ignore how her stomach twisted with guilt, even knowing that Wynn was right.  

Wynn excused herself shortly after to get something to eat.  Cassandra stayed in the war room, her thoughts chasing each other around.  Distantly, she wondered when Wynn had started to know her better than she knew herself.

* * *

 

The day of the trial dawned with a cold wind that bit at Cassandra’s cheeks.  She forewent her plate armor in favor of furs and chain mail, feeling only marginally warmer as she went downstairs for breakfast.

Heads turned wherever she went.  The energy in Skyhold set her teeth on edge.  

She ate breakfast with Dorian.  Wynn was nowhere in sight, and for one wild moment Cassandra wondered if she had fled.  She was quick to banish the thought; Wynn was not the type to run away, even from something like this.  Knowing that, however, did not stop her from breathing a sigh of relief when she saw Wynn enter the dining hall, flanked on one side by Evert and the other by one of the Thorn Coalition templars.

Dorian was curiously silent during their meal, but once he’d finished eating he clapped a hand on her shoulder.  “It’ll be fine,” he assured her. “You are the Inquisitor after all. I hardly think anyone is going to vilify your choice.  Well, a few people might.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Cassandra said dryly.

“Happy to help.”

The trial wasn’t meant to begin until midday, leaving Cassandra with several hours in the meantime.  She despised the thought of being idle, especially now, so she made the rounds checking in with the rest of the Inner Circle.  Most didn’t seem all that worried about the trial or its outcome, and Cassandra’s stomach churned with the realization of how much faith these people had in her.  

Midday came, both too soon and not soon enough.  Cassandra sat gingerly upon the Inquisitor’s chair (she refused to call it a throne), suddenly despising it for the symbol of power it was.  The hall was packed within minutes. The crowd left many Inquisition members craning their necks for a better view, each not wanting to miss a minute of the trial.

A hush fell over the onlookers as one of the side doors on the hall was flung open.  Vivienne preceded Wynn into the room, who was followed by Leliana. The crowd parted to let them through, giving them an unobstructed path to the dais.  Josephine was waiting for them at the top, with her parchment and quill ready.

Vivienne moved to stand at Cassandra’s right, while Leliana and Wynn stood at the left.  

Josephine cleared her throat.  “This trial has been convened using the practices of the Ostwick courts,” she began, without any preamble.  “Which require that the person being put on trial must have an accuser - someone who will present their crimes and give any evidence that they committed them - and a defender - who will present evidence in an attempt to refute guilt.”

Both Vivienne and Leliana were expressionless.  Wynn’s hands were tied behind her back, but her face was just as stoic.

“The accused is Knight-Enchanter Wynnedred Trevelyan,” Josephine continued.  “Daughter of Hydred and Nathaniel Trevelyan, sister of the late Everdred Trevelyan, adoptive sister of Everdred Adaar.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows at that, glancing at where Evert was standing, a smug smirk on his face.  Now she was curious as to how he’d convinced Josephine to add it.

“Accusing her is Lady Vivienne, the First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle.  Defending her is Lady Leliana, former Left Hand of the Divine.” Josephine paused, then said, “The accuser will now begin.”

Vivienne didn’t step forward so much as take the stage.  Attention was drawn to her almost inexorably. Cassandra had known that Vivienne would have clout as the accuser, but seeing the way the crowd stilled as she started speaking made her even more apprehensive.  

The only two who did not look nervous were Wynn and Leliana.

“As we are holding a trial in the style of Ostwick, I thought it only prudent to present the relevant crimes first,” Vivienne began.  “Firstly: that Enchanter Trevelyan conspired to murder the Senior Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle, and succeeded in doing so. Among others who were killed on her orders during the night of the Ostwick massacre were Knight-Commander Brayden Stillstrom, Knight-Captain Orland Yates, at least five Knight-Lieutenants, and several other lower-ranking Templars.  The attack was carried out without warning or mercy.”

Josephine stepped forward again.  “Vivienne has informed me that she has a witness,” she said, her voice subdued.  “Kami Hontree, please step forward.”

Cassandra found herself leaning forward in her chair to get a good look at the elderly woman who pushed through the crowd.  She was dressed in the garb of one of the kitchen workers, and she glanced around nervously as she approached. One look at Wynn was enough to tell Cassandra that Wynn was caught off-guard by this witness, and that she recognized her.

Vivienne placed a hand on Kami’s shoulder.  “Tell the Inquisitor what you told me, my dear.”

Kami swallowed visibly, but began to speak.  “I was cleaning,” she began, “on the night of the massacre.  This was before all the other violence started. Every other night I was assigned to tidy up Senior Enchanter Lydia’s office.  It was usually unoccupied by the time I got to it, but not this time.”

Wynn had gone still.

“There were voices coming from inside,” Kami continued.  “Sometimes the Senior Enchanter would still be working late at night, so I was going to leave and come back later, but then one of them - it sounded like Senior Enchanter Lydia - shouted something, and then I couldn’t hear anything.  I looked in through the door and I saw Enchanter Trevelyan, holding a... a glowing sword, and the Senior Enchanter was just... lying there...”

Kami broke off, looking like she was struggling to breathe, almost, but she got herself back under control.  “The rest of the fighting started, after that. I don’t remember much of that besides trying to get out of the tower, and the screams.”

“It’s alright, Kami,” Vivienne soothed.  “That’s all I needed from you.” She glanced over their audience for a moment before turning back to Cassandra.  “That is an eyewitness proving that Wynn committed the murder, and that the origins of the Thorn Coalition - which has wreaked havoc across Thedas - was born that night.  What more do you need?”

Cassandra said nothing, but there was triumph in Vivienne’s eyes.  She moved back over to the side, while Kami hurried off the dais, disappearing back into the crowd.  Josephine cleared her throat. 

“The defender will now present any evidence to counter this,” she said.

Leliana didn’t quite possess the same stage presence as Vivienne, but she was still a striking figure.  She settled into a position of apparent repose, her hands clasped behind her back as she faced Cassandra.  

“I too have a witness to bring forward,” she said.  “Matrim Linnaia, please come forward.”

This time, Cassandra recognized the young man who moved towards the dais.  He was one of the two Thorn Coalition templars, who was now outfitted with Inquisition armor.  He looking imposing wearing it, but his expression was nervous as he approached them. 

“Inquisitor,” he said, bowing his head.  He glanced at Wynn, then quickly looked away.  “I do have evidence. Not... not necessarily evidence that will prove DeFleur’s - I mean, Enchanter Trevelyan’s - innocence, but... but it was for a good reason.”

He looked at Leliana this time, who nodded for him to continue.  

“Several days before the... ‘massacre’, as Enchanter Vivienne puts it,” and here he wrinkled his nose, “I was charged with delivering a missive from Senior Enchanter Lydia to Knight-Commander Stillstrom.  Lydia had seemed so grave when she gave it to me, and we were all anxious about Kirkwall, so I read it, and after realizing what it was, brought it to Trevelyan, first.

“I don’t have it memorized word-for-word, but to summarize, it said something like, ‘Here is the list of the mages that must be eliminated in order for our Circle to be kept safe.’  There were about fifteen names on there. Trevelyan was one. Adaar was another. There were two more enchanters, but the rest were apprentices. None older than sixteen.”

Cassandra felt her stomach twist.  Even Vivienne looked disgusted, and many of the mages’ expressions were those of horror.  

“We’d already figured out which of the Templars were on Lydia’s side,” he continued.  “Our plan was desperate, and we didn’t know how much time we had. So we planned an attack.  We surprised the other Templars and escaped Ostwick in the night. It was DeFleur’s idea to go and make sure the same thing didn’t happen at other Circles.”

“Thank you, Matrim,” Leliana said.  Matrim nodded and walked back towards the bystanders.  His shoulders were shaking.

Leliana turned to Cassandra.  “I’m not disputing Enchanter Trevelyan’s actions,” Leliana stated.  “Merely whether or not she could have taken any other course, given the circumstances.  I also have numerous records from the Ostwick Circle. Lydia kept a very tight leash on everything, and for those mages she feared she could not control, she actively sought to isolate and demoralize them from a very young age.”

Wynn was expressionless once again, but her eyes were blazing.

“That is all I have to say,” Leliana said.  “I gave my documents to Josephine before the trial.  She can confirm.”

Josephine nodded, looking subdued.  “Leliana’s description of the goings-on in Ostwick is accurate.”

Leliana moved back to stand beside Wynn.  Wynn pivoted slightly to look at Cassandra.  There was no judgment on her face, just expectation.

“As Inquisitor, the final judgment of Enchanter Trevelyan falls to Lady Pentaghast,” Josephine continued.  “What do you wish to do with her?”

All eyes fell on Cassandra, who felt their weight almost physically.  Her head was spinning with the sudden influx of information about just what had happened at Ostwick - things that had remained in the dark for so long that they were ugly in the light.  Wynn had struck preemptively in order to save lives. But had it been necessary?

She straightened, hoping that what she said didn’t doom the Inquisition.

“There is no doubt that Enchanter Trevelyan is guilty of the crimes she is accused of,” Cassandra began.  “But I think it is arguable that there were extenuating circumstances, and it does not sound as though civilians were harmed by her actions.  Her subsequent crimes, however - attacking other circle towers, attacking various groups of Templars - have no such justification. She could have taken her mages and gone into hiding.  Instead, she chose to continue to fight.”

Cassandra paused, weighing her next words carefully.  “However, we are at war with something far worse than the Thorn Coalition.  And in times of uncertainty, we will need whatever aid we can get. I cannot lock Enchanter Trevelyan up indefinitely, nor can I order her execution.  Therefore, I will be giving her a full pardon - “

Several exclamations, both of happiness and anger, rose up from the audience.

“ - on the condition that she relinquish leadership of any kind, both of the Inquisition mages and the Thorn Coalition.  Nor will she be permitted to name a successor. Should she reform the Thorn Coalition after the conflict with Corypheus is won, the penalty will be death.”

The crowd quieted again.

“She will also relinquish the title of Knight-Enchanter and DeFleur.  If she gives any indication that she intends to continue her activities as Thorn Coalition leader before Corypheus is dealt with, and she will be placed under guard once again.”

Some of the Thorn Coalition members looked outraged, but Cassandra wasn’t able to read the rest of the room.  She looked at Wynn.

“Do you agree to this?” she asked.

Wynn held her gaze, before stating, “I do.”

“Very well.”

Cassandra nodded at Josephine, suddenly exhausted.

“This trial is concluded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this seems a little abrupt, well... it's at least longer than the in-game judgments.


	20. Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! It's not very long, but I hope you guys like it!

“It's too cold for this,” Evert grumbled.  “Do you mind...?”

Wynn rolled her eyes, but placed a hand on his shoulder, sending a warming spell through him.  

“You know, it doesn't say much for our reputation if you're defeated by a bit of wind,” she pointed out.

“I've never been much for fire magic,” Evert said, shrugging.  “Besides, you're not going to need your warming spells where you're going.”

Wynn grimaced.  She'd grown used to the cold of the Frostbacks, and was not looking forward to the notoriously hot Western Approach.  Western Orlais was one region she'd never had any intention of visiting. Now that that had changed, she could only hope that she was adequately prepared.

The sun was rising over Skyhold, providing a scant bit of warmth where Wynn and Evert were keeping watch on the southern ramparts.  Wynn's legs were cramping from standing all night, and she was fairly certain that her foot was asleep.

Evert's stomach let out an audible grumble.  “I don't suppose they'll let us get breakfast soon?”

Wynn shrugged.

She and Cassandra were due to depart for the Western Approach today.  She hadn't yet been told when that would be happening, exactly, but she hoped she would at least be able to get some sleep beforehand.  She didn't trust herself to sleep in the saddle without falling off her horse.

It was only a little while later that they were relieved from their watch duties - by one regular soldier and one Templar.  Neither of them gave her or Evert a second glance, aside from a cordial nod. It was a mark of how quickly the men under Cullen's command had adapted to the mages’ presence among them.

Wynn and Evert ate a quick breakfast, then retreated to the tent they now shared.  They usually slept back-to-back, a habit that had been carried over from their time before the Conclave.  Evert loved to complain about her tendency to thrash around and roll into him in her sleep, but the moment she’d been released from her guards he’d insisted on them sharing the same tent.

“If I don’t wake up,” he told her, “good luck in the Western Approach.”

It felt like Wynn had only just bedded down to take a nap when she was being shaken awake.  She blinked a few times as Varric came into view, and grimaced at the foul taste in her mouth.

“We’re heading out in a bit,” he whispered.  

Wynn nodded a confirmation, sitting up and glancing behind her at Evert.  He was still sleeping. 

The sun was at its height as she emerged from the tent, stretching.  She quickly buckled on her armor, making sure her staff was secured to her back before heading for the stables.  She called out a greeting to Xyfandel on the way there, who looked up from his conversation with Cullen and waved.

Cassandra and Varric were already at the stables.  Wynn glanced around, but couldn’t see the third person who was supposed to set out with them.

“Wynn,” Cassandra said.  “Good. I was hoping to speak with you.”

Wynn raised both eyebrows, but jerked her head towards the stable doors.  They exited, moving towards where the stable came close to the walls of the keep, where they had a bit more privacy.  

“Is something wrong?” Wynn asked.

“No, everything’s fine,” Cassandra assured her quickly.  “I merely wanted to ask how you are. After... everything.”

It had only been a few days since the trial.  Though a part of Wynn was dissatisfied with the outcome, she was, for the most part, willing to attempt to bring about the change she hoped for from within the Inquisition.  It helped that the Inquisition itself was something of a pariah, and willing to take action; there was a lot they could do beyond simply defeating Corypheus.

But Cassandra wasn’t asking her that.

“I’m doing well,” she said.  “I’m glad that your terms didn’t exclude me from interacting with my friends altogether.  Evert probably would’ve pitched a fit.”

“You care for them deeply,” Cassandra said.  “I wouldn’t want to separate you from them. I trust you not to go against the terms set.”

Those words hit Wynn harder than she’d been expecting.  She hadn’t expected Cassandra to offer her trust so soon after Haven, yet here she was.  

“Thank you,” she said.  “I trust you to keep them safe - or as safe as they can be kept, seeing as how we’re at war.”

“Ugh.  Don’t remind me.”

They both chuckled a little at that, before Wynn, on impulse, stepped forward, and grabbed Cassandra’s hands in her own.  “Cassandra, I - “

“Now I hope you weren’t all planning on leaving without me.”

Wynn stepped back quickly, feeling herself blush a bit as Dorian strutted into view, throwing at wink their way before heading into the stable.  He struck up what sounded like a boisterous conversation with Varric. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“What were you going to say?” she asked.

“Just - just that I’m... I care for you,” Wynn said, “and that I’m very glad you’re my friend.”

Cassandra looked taken aback for a moment, but she smiled.  “Friends,” she agreed. “I care for you, as well. I suppose we should get going, yes?  Before Dorian starts kicking up more of a fuss.”

Wynn agreed, and followed Cassandra back into the stables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final notes:
> 
> First off, thank you guys for sticking with this all the way through! Even when I was starting to feel a bit burnt out by this fic, you all kept on encouraging me. This is my longest work to date, and I'm proud of it, even if I'm not able to carry that through to the sequel. 
> 
> Secondly: I may not be continuing this story, but you are all welcome to send me prompts on Tumblr! My askbox is always open. 
> 
> I'm going to need a little bit of time to write the post about what would've happened after this, but I'll add that to this A/N as soon as it's done. Sorry there isn't a better way to notify people about that.
> 
> Edit: here is the summary of what happens after this fic: [next](https://darknessfactor.tumblr.com/post/180778172746/so-the-circle-breaker-is-finished-heres-what).

**Author's Note:**

> Want to talk about this story? Feel free to message me on [Tumblr](https://darknessfactor.tumblr.com)!


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